


Distant Stars

by RhymesoftheRenegades



Series: Distant Wars series [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Aliens, Enemies to Friends, Expanded Universe, Gen, Post-Season/Series Finale, Science Fiction, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-04-19 23:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14248359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymesoftheRenegades/pseuds/RhymesoftheRenegades
Summary: Thrown far beyond the edges of the Outer Rim, Ezra Bridger struggles for the sole purpose of surviving to return home. But he is forced to ally himself with Grand Admiral Thrawn, and the hated Imperials, as they encounter a new and terrifying threat; one which if left unchecked, could one day be unleashed upon the entire galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

**In a slightly altered version of the Rebels ending in which Pellaeon was on the Chimaera.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

The _Chimaera's_ departure from hyperspace had been remarkably smooth, considering the circumstances. Their alien assailants had casually detached themselves from the ship and began to simply fly away, suddenly indifferent to the star destroyer they had just brought to its knees. The crippled ship simply hung in space, with a slow but unstoppable momentum taking it closer and closer to the planet directly ahead.

“I can't get the system up,” a anxious ensign called from the crew pit. “The primary _and_ secondary generators have failed, we don't have nearly the power we need to restart cold engines.”

Captain Gilad Pellaeon resisted the urge to rub his temples in frustration. A man of middle age, he was distinguished by a spotless straight uniform and an even straighter spine; the very model of an un-dauntable imperial officer, except perhaps for the neatly trimmed but bushy mustache that matched his prematurely graying hair. But even this long practiced image was starting to crack, straining against the inexplicable situation they had been dragged into.

The normal order one would find on the bridge of a respectable Imperial star destroyer had been replaced by barely organized chaos, as auxiliary bridge crews tried to repair the damage done by the jedi's bizarre attack. Crewmen huddled around functioning consoles and worked frantically to repair inoperative ones. Bits of debris and bodies still littered the floor, with clean up far down on their list of priorities. But the most unsettling thing was the fact that they could not even _see_ where they were going. As soon as those beasts had extracted themselves from the ship, the emergency blast shields (a feature unique to the Chimaera that Thrawn had been campaigning to make mandatory on all imperial cruisers) had slammed shut to block the pressure leak where the view-port used to be. If not for a few sensor consoles that survived, they would never have known they were heading for a planetary collision; and even then the fact they couldn't actually see their course simply reinforced a growing sense of powerlessness.

“Continue troubleshooting,” Thrawn somehow endeavored to keep his tone firm but decisive even in this disaster. “We must find the cause of engine failure immediately.” Barely pausing for a breath he turned on his heel to the opposite crew-pit and called down. “Get an evaluation on the operability of our tractor beams in this condition!”

Pellaeon glanced up with interest. He had only recently been transferred to this command, but he had already witnessed the Grand Admirals skill for unusual solutions. “Could tractors help rectify the situation?”

The Admiral kept his alien gaze on the crew-pit. “We could launch our shuttles and light transports, then lock on and use them to pull the ship into a more stable orbit. If there is a moon or some other large mass within range, we could use it as leverage to clear ourselves from the planets gravitational shadow.”

“We have a negative on the tractor beams sir,” a crewmen replied. “None were active before power failure and we don't have the charge we'd need to start them up now.”

“Perhaps we could rig grappling cables between ourselves and the smaller craft,” Pellaeon offered.

“It would take some time to jury-rig,” Thrawn appeared to be only half listening, his tone almost casually thoughtful as he stared at the blast shields that blocked the sight of their impending destruction. “And as we get closer to the planet it's gravitational pull becomes stronger.”

“We have an answer from engineering sir,” the ensign sounded like she had just had the floor pulled out from under her. “Being dragged into hyperspace involuntarily must have fractured the generators focusing conduit. Engineering says it's broken into a hundred pieces.”

Pellaeon wanted to stumble toward the nearest chair and collapse into it. The focusing conduit was made from carefully designed metal alloys, with just the right conductivity to channel power through efficiently They were so expensive to make for engines as big as those of a star destroyer, and so hard to damage, that ships rarely carried spares. And replacements could not simply be welded together in the machine shop. “Could they be repaired?”

“Yes,” Thrawn's quiet voice answered before the exhausted ensign could. “A reasonable amount of heating and the pieces would bond back together very securely. But we would need to have every last piece precisely fitted together, any irregularity could cause it to fracture again. That kind of repair would take hours, possibly days.”

The frantic sounds of work had petered out around the bridge, as crewmen gave up pretending they were not listening. Pellaeon did his best to keep his gaze up, while not looking directly at any on them. “Shall I give the order to abandon ship sir?” He knew Thrawn had already received a cursory report on their status, including the large number of escape pods that had been damaged.

For one painfully long minute the Grand Admiral stood silently, arms crossed with one hand to his chin. His supply of miracles seemed to have reached its end.

Then he keyed his comlink on again. “Detention center, what is the status of our prisoner?”

“He's woken up sir,” came the apprehensive reply. “I have a squad of stormtroopers outside the door if he does anything suspicious, but so far he's just sitting there on his bunk, and per your orders no one has interacted with him.”

“I will be down shortly, let me know if anything changes.” Thrawn keyed off his comlink then spun on his heel toward the turbolift door, nodding to Pellaeon as he passed. “Come with me captain, if you will. Commander Faro,” He called the second in command over his shoulder. “contact the main hangar and tell them to begin rigging tow cables onto all their mid-sized craft immediately. They are also to plant attachment sites on our hull.”

Pellaeon fought to hide his apprehension as he joined Thrawn in the turbolift, turning to him as soon as the doors closed. “You think that the _JEDI_ can help us.”

“I have looked into what is confirmed about the Force in recent months, and various forms meditation that allow its users to reassembly broken objects have been documented.” The Grand Admiral talked about such supernatural powers with the frankness he would a ships engine capabilities. “It's possible Bridger could repair the conduit and restore our power. Baring that, perhaps he can lift the ship clear from danger. If all else fails, we try towing ourselves.”

The captain was beginning to think Thrawn had been overly rattled by the earlier battle. “You think one jedi could _lift_ this entire ship?”

Thrawn glanced at him with what might have been annoyance. “One jedi has destroyed this ship,” he replied tersely. “I will not underestimate the same enemy twice!”

 

* * *

 

Ezra slowly came out of a daze inside an imperial detention cell, and for a moment could not remember how he had gotten there. The first thing that came to him was a memory of collapsing onto a metal floor, sounds of a door screeching open, blasters being cocked, orders being shouted, then the sense of being dragged off as everything faded to oblivion. He started using the concentration techniques Kanan had taught him and-

_Kanan_

Ezra bolted upright, so quickly he almost fell back down. Everything came flooding back; Kanans' death, their assault on the Empire, surrendering to Thrawn, meeting the Emperor, his awful test. And, finally, his last move. The plan that rid Lothal of the Empire entirely, but also meant he was leaving his home, and his family, behind. Maybe forever.

As he sat on his bunk, Ezra didn't think he had ever felt so tired before. It had taken all his strength in the Force to keep the purrgil focused on what he needed them to do, and he'd never had to hold it for so long before. His whole body seemed to ache at least slightly, and there was a dull throbbing from where Thrawn had shot him in the shoulder, though someone had slapped a bacta patch on it while he was out. As his mind cleared he began to draw on the Force, in a very small amount, to speed his recovery. That was when he began to sense the feelings of fear that surrounded him.

A lot of the star destroyers crew had apparently survived, and it occurred to Ezra that someone should have shown up at his cell by now. Stretching out, he could vaguely feel their thoughts; every degree on the spectrum between apprehension and full blown panic He spread his awareness wider and got a solid image; the giant face of a desert covered planet, with the tiny arrow of the star destroyer heading for it.

“Guess we took out Thrawn's ship after all,” Ezra tried joking with himself. There might still be a chance for him to get clear of the impending collision. An escape pod would probably be blasted before he could ever get clear, but if he made it to the hangar he might just find something with more armor that he could fly out.

As Ezra tried to figure out the best way to get to the hangar (stealing a uniform had worked before), He became aware that the guards out side his cell suddenly radiated anxiety. More were coming, and he could sense a familiar alien presence among them.

“Guess this is it.” He'd known they would come, Thrawn wasn't the type to let the other guy have the last word, but he had hoped for more time to recuperate. Nevertheless he stood up, allowed his focus to slip into the Force the way Kanan had taught him, and began to stretch his limbs for the coming fight.

He expected them to start off with a barrage of blaster fire or maybe a thermal detonator. He couldn't have been more surprised when there was a knock at the cell door.

There was a moments pause in which he ludicrously wondered if he was supposed to say 'come in', but then the door slid open. Thrawn stood there with hands behind his back, his uniform somehow only slightly ruffled by the events of the last few hours. His demeanor was equally controlled, though Ezra noticed just a slight hint of tenseness, as if the Grand Admiral was bracing for an attack but didn't want the other guy to notice. There were a dozen stormtroopers in the hall, maybe more, but they had all backed off slightly so none were within arms length of the door. Weakened, and without his lightsaber, Ezra didn't think he could get past that many; even _stormtroopers_ couldn't fail at these odds. Maybe if he took the admiral hostage, but he had a feeling that would be harder to do than one might think.

“Commander Bridger,” Thrawn nodded toward Ezra, as if they had just run into each other on the street. “Might I have a word with you?”

Ezra was so surprised that all he could manage was an exasperated shrug. “It's your ship.”

The Grand Admiral purposefully descended the few steps into the cell, stopping when they were just a few feet from each other. The already anxious stormtroopers tense even more; blasters were held at parade rest as the admiral had ordered, but fingers were on triggers.

“I trust you are aware of our situation?” Thrawn asked.

“The ship has no power, and we are heading straight toward a planet.” Ezra sensed the troopers tense even further; he shouldn't have been able to know this from inside a cell.

“The only realistic remedy is if we repair the shattered focusing conduit for our main generator,” Thrawn plowed ahead. “But we do not have nearly enough time to do it by any conventional method.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow, but otherwise tried to make his expression as unreadable as the Grand Admirals. He didn't know why Thrawn was stalling the execution to explain details, but every moment he played along was more time for him to recuperate. “Do you have an _unconventional_ one?”

“That is the jedi specialty, is it not?”

After everything that had happened today ( _had it really all been one day_ ) Ezra was pretty much incapable of shock, but that was surprising. “You want _ME_ to help you!?”

“Helping those in need does play some part in the jedi philosophy, correct?” Thrawn's tone went just along the border of patronizing.

“I'm pretty sure they make an exception for people you're at war with.” Ezra retorted, deciding to ignore the fact he still only had a beginners knowledge of the codes finer points. “Even the jedi let rules slip on the battlefield.”

“And rightly so,” Thrawn agreed. “But now that the battle is over, surely killing at least ten thousand now defenseless people by denying them help is rather excessive, even in war?”

Anger started to bubble up from Ezra's stomach, and he fought to stay in control as he glared daggers at the high and mighty imperial. “That's at about the same level of cruelty as opening fire on about a _hundred thousand_ innocent, defenseless people, because your glorious empire is more important that the people who live in it. In fact under _imperial_ rules of war, I'm pretty sure a few thousand unnecessary deaths makes you qualified for a promotion and a fancy uniform!”

There was a moment of silence, in which Ezra could sense the stormtroopers listening in the hall just _itching_ for an order to gun him down. Unfazed, Thrawn simply replied, “Is it the jedi way to match the standards of your enemies?”

Ezra ground his teeth as he doubled down on his glare. _DAMN YOU! DAMN GRAND ADMIRAL!_

 

* * *

 

 

They marched down the corridors toward the main engineering space at a quicker and quicker pace. The ships last power reserves were starting to run out, and it was as if the star destroyer was dying right in front of them; hallway lights grew increasingly dim and doors opened with increased sluggishness. En route, Thrawn received a report that had something to do with the insufficient strength of tow cables which Ezra didn't quite understand; but it caused Thrawn to order that all nonessential parts of the ship be evacuated so lighting and life-support could be shut down to save power, and it all seemed to almost be the final straw for the exhausted captain.

He had wanted to return to the bridge anyway, but the turbolifts weren't working.

Once they reached engineering they wasted no time in getting Ezra into a power-leak suit and sending him out with the chief engineer and a team of tech grunts to try and save the ship. Making their way _inside_ the massive encased tube that housed the primary power generator, they squeezed through a maze of circuits, pipes and wires, until they came to a small open space somewhere in the middle, between two generator pieces that were each bigger than the _Ghost_. Both were blackened with the discharge of an explosion, and droid sized pieces of broken metal littered the area.

“It's just one big piece of conductive alloy,” the chief engineer explained, waiving her arms at the debris around them. “If you can fit all the pieces together long enough for us to weld them, it should save the generator.” She sounded like she couldn't quite believe she was saying this.

“Show me the picture again,” Ezra asked, and one tech held up a detailed schematic of what the conduit was supposed to look like. Ezra took a quick moment to look it over, before instructing them all to stand back. “And keep a heads up,” he ordered as he crouched to sit cross legged on the floor. “Things could start happening fast.”

They all obeyed, though the chief engineer frowned at him. “We don't have time for you to take a nap be-.”

“Let him work Major Harch,” Thrawn's voice came on over the suit intercomms. He and his staff could see everything they were doing from the main engineering room.

Sitting on the floor, Ezra took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. In spite of his tiredness, he had no difficulty taping into the Force again. If anything, it seemed easier than before. He reached out, and spread his mind's eye to his surroundings, taking in every detail.

There were many distractions. Parts of the ship creaked and groaned as the planets gravity grew stronger and stronger, and faint alarms blared about the dropping power-levels, as if someone could have failed to notice them. He could hear a whole shipful of thoughts too; the growing panic among the crew, the captain's frustration over his sense of helplessness, the chief engineers skepticism about “jedi spoon-bending” and the admiral's crazy plan.

Tired as he was, it was so easy to be distracted by them, to let his mind wander and his power slip away. But he couldn't let it, he had another mission.

This thought brought more distractions. Images began flooding his mind, scenes of Lothal, and how it must look now with the Empire gone. Faces, the friends and family he might never see again. Alone with his thoughts he finally began too feel the ramifications of what he had chosen to do hit him. _I will never see home again!_

 _“The past is not something to dwell on,”_ he heard Kanan's voice and remembered the time and place; a late night around the dejarik table in the _Ghost_ 's common room. It was one of the few times he'd gotten his master to talk about his experiences during the Clone Wars. _“You can spend the rest of your life worrying over what you_ could _have done, but what has happened can never be corrected. All that matters, all you should worry about, is what you can do to help people today and tomorrow.”_

Ezra let his stray thoughts slip away like raindrops running off him, and formed a solid picture of the power conduit nestling in its place.

All around them pieces began to move, irregular chunks of metal rose up from the floor and dislodged themselves from corners. Several choice curses sounded out behind him, and the techs were so dumbfounded they barely dodged several pieces that flew in from behind them.

They came together in mid air in the space the conduit used to be, where a growing cloud of pieces were moving about in place, reorienting themselves to fit together perfectly. A massive three dimensional puzzle, putting itself together in less than a minute. Suddenly it was done, and a wide squat cylinder of metal the size of a bantha connected the two generator pieces.

There was an astonished pause, and then the major barked something to her tech grunts and they sprang into action, surrounding the conduit and using fusion cutters to weld the split seams back together. Ezra remained seated on the floor as they went over every split and crack, sing ladders and ramp ways to cover it from bottom to top.

He wasn't sure how long it took, perhaps ten minutes, perhaps and hour. But when the major gave the all clear, and the techs scrambled to a safe distance, Ezra released his hold in the Force.

With just the barest grown the power conduit settled into its place, holding firm along its new welding. There was a pregnant pause, then someone in the engineering room flipped a switch and a deep hum began coming from the generator, as machinery came back to life all around them. The noise grew into a dull roar that drowned out the excited chatter of the techs, but Ezra still heard a casually precise voice speak into his helmet comm, “well done Commander Bridger

 

They finally talked again in the Grand Admirals private office. Which, like the man himself, had managed to remain largely tidy. After power was restored Thrawn and his captain had made a b-line for the bridge, caught up in a whirlwind of staff as they receive increasingly more detailed reports about the ships status along the way. Ezra had sort of just trailed behind them, aware of but not really caring about the squad of stormtroopers still breathing down his neck. Minute by minute updates continued for two hours or more as systems were brought back on line throughout the ship, and those totally inoperable were sorted for repair by priority. Finally, the admiral seemed satisfied, and lead Ezra to the privacy of his office while waving off concerned staff.

Ezra sank into the nearest chair while Thrawn walked behind his desk and activated a hologram that displayed the ships steady approach to the planet. “We will make a controlled landing on the planets surface, and begin affecting serious repairs both internal and external. Though we will never achieve total operational readiness without a shipyard and some replacement personal, we will likely be ready for space travel in one standard week, two at most.”

Ezra shrugged rather bemusedly. “Good news I guess.”

“Though the ability to travel will likely be irrelevant,” the admiral sat down in his chair. “Unless we can determine where we are relative to Imperial space.”

That explained why he wanted to talk to Ezra. “Damned if I know,” the jedi grinned in open mockery.

“It was you who was controlling the purrgil, was it not.” Thrawn pressed patiently.

“I only told them to take us far, far away.” Ezra tried to be annoyingly unconcerned, hoping to get a rise out of the Grand Admiral. “Not that I was actually _speaking_ to them really, it's not so much translating words to their language as it is sending the overall impression of an idea. And the idea I had was 'take us _away from the Empire_ '.”

“Rather open ended,” if Thrawn was getting aggravated he hid it very well, and Ezra didn't have the energy to probe him with the force. “But apparently fulfilled quite literally. Preliminary scans do not match this system to any on record, and we can detect none of the long-range transmission signals that could be picked up in any part of known space. Are you certain you have no idea where we are.”

“If I had to guess,” Ezra leaned forward in mock seriousness and stage-whispered. “ _Unknown_ space.”

Thrawn brushed off the not so subtle taunting. “Judging by the direction the ship was facing before the jump, your creatures took us deeper 'east', past the outer rim.” Galactic navigation revolved around the assigning of cardinal directions in space, a completely arbitrary but simple system.

“Maybe,” Ezra leaned back again with a shrug. “But we don't really know anything about how purrgil travel through hyperspace. For all we know we could have been shot out _west_ , farther than Yaga Minor.”

The alien admiral gave the slightest of smiles. “No, I would have no problem navigating back to known space in the 'western' regions. I am fairly confident we have gone east.”

Ezra didn't like the fact that Thrawn seemed totally sincere about this. Did he _come_ from the Unknown Regions?

“Proceeding under that assumption,” the admiral plowed onward. “We must return too Imperial space with all possible speed.”

“Well, Grand Admiral, if you want my help you can _k'resp sali d'e tam'ach_!” Ezra figured Thrawn knew as much of the Messe Caulf trade language as anyone well acquainted with the Outer Rim, and there was just no beating it for colorful insults.

That at least earned him a surprised eyebrow raise. “And you are quite certain in this?” Thrawn persisted.

“I didn't free my home world from the Empire just to see it be enslaved again after a month.” There was no longer any levity in Ezra's tone.

 _And yet in freeing Lothal, you have likely destroyed it._ Thrawn leaned back in his chair, pondering the repercussions of his failure. The Emperor would tolerate no challenges to his rule; and if even the harshest conventional suppression failed, he would not hesitate to lay down his full hand. If Thrawn's estimations were correct, he had only had several months left to pacify the Outer Rim before the Death Star project was completed. Now the rebels victory, his failure, not only made that alternative inevitable, but provided the Emperor with the ideal target on which to demonstrate his terrible weapon, the first world to successfully defeat him.

 _It is unlikely that being aware of this will make the young jedi more cooperative_ , Thrawn decided. _Better he remain ignorant for now._

“We will continue this discussion some other time.” Thrawn pressed a button under his desk to summon the stormtrooper escort. “After we have some better knowledge of the situation, we'll be more likely to reach an understand.”

“Take as long as you want,” Ezra stood up as his guards arrived to return him to his cell. Apparently the Grand Admiral had decided to keep him alive for now, and that gave him possibilities for getting out of here (where ever _here_ was). “But there is no force in this galaxy or any other that will make me help _you_ willingly, or your Empire!”

More than once in the years that followed, Ezra would wonder if it had been a serious mistake to use those words.

**Hopefully everyone is in character, I'll try to keep it that way.**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**It always starts on a desert world.**

**Disclaimer: I won nothing.**

The _Chimaera_ lay on the sandy landscape of the of the planet, like an oceangoing vessel on a seabed after the tide had gone out. There was something mildly unsettling about the whole situation; a mighty star destroyer was not supposed to be stuck on the ground. Conspicuously lying in the otherwise featureless desert created a nagging feeling of exposure, and the thick armor and heavy laser-cannons of the ship were suddenly easy to forget. Many crewmen working on the exterior of the ship found themselves constantly looking skyward, not wanting to be surprised by any hypothetical enemy that would seize this rare opportunity to attack an Imperial star destroyer in its moment of weakness.

It didn't help the feeling of discomfort that the entire ship lay tipped slightly toward its heavier aft end, and maybe a little to the left.

Pellaeon stood next to the now open viewport of the bridge, gazing out at the repair work going on up and down the ships hull. Crewmen of every rank and department swarmed around hull breaches and crushed equipment, looking like nothing more than tiny insects repairing their hive from his vantage point. The captain had to squint against the strong desert winds the bridge was exposed to now that the blast shields had been retracted so the transparisteel windows could be replaced. Between the winds and the noise of the repair work, the staff supply officer at his side had to shout to be heard.

“We will have re-claimed fifty percent of all compartments that were subject to hull breach by the end of today,” lieutenant commander Krub Sesden informed him. “And the rest should be completed within thirty-six hours of that. The durasteel supplies we have meet every specification of strength and stability. However because we had so many large breaches, that supply is spread thin. Every refitting meets the minimum requirement of strength to endure space travel, but does not match the thickness of our hull armor. In terms of battle readiness, we will have several major weak spots.”

“But it is conclusive that we had no damage to the overall integrity of our superstructure?” Pellaeon wanted to end their review on a good point.

“Yes sir,” Krub nodded firmly. Everything but the hull is as strong as ever.”

“All we must worry about is the hull then,” Pellaeon couldn't help the dryness of his tone. “I believe you may now leave this in the hands of the workcrews lieutenant commander. I have an equally pressing assignment for you.” Motioning for the man to follow, he strode down the command deck away from the worst of the wind and descended into one of the crewspits, interrupting a senior lieutenant and his workers that were huddled around a sensor console.

“Lieutenant Lomar here is our top communications officer,” Pellaeon explained. “And has been assigned to lead the effort in finding out where we our.” The captain nodded to the rake thin officer. “Your idea lieutenant?”

“Sir,” the man nodded, “Our best likelihood of being able to find out where we our is by boosting the effective range of our sensor and communications relays. This will require constructing a significant additions to the relays themselves, but will be perfectly do-able if we can scrounge up enough of the right tech.”

“I want you to coordinate with them and make sure they have access to everything that can be found in terms of hardware,” Pellaeon explained. “Ransack the store rooms and strip out non-essential systems if you have to, but find it if we have it.” The captain also expected lieutenant commander Sesden would be able to lend some technical insight as well. In spite of what his age and girth might suggest, being as close to obese as one could while still in the fleet, the supply officer had a sharp mind and an industrious spirit. He had gained insight into many areas of skill outside of mere supply procurement during his long career, and had picked up a great deal about problem solving while haggling with the fleet bureaucracy

Krub stroked his double chins thoughtfully. “Did you have that RA-7 calculate the odds on this?” he motioned to the protocol droid among the communication team.

“Yes sir,” Lomar affirmed. “Out of all our proposals, relay enhancement had the highest chance of success.”

“And the odds were _good_?”

Lomar looked somewhat apologetic “They were the highest, sir.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting cross legged on the bunk in his cell, Ezra was pursuing the same goal as the Imperials, but in a completely different manner. Opening his awareness in the Force, he tried to stretch his senses to an extent he never had before, to get some idea of where they were. In his minds eye he saw the planet they were on, a large reddish-orange jewel hanging in space. He saw the larger blinding sphere of the sun that dwarfed it, and two lifeless rocks that circled round it beside the planet. Beyond that he could see . . . stars.

That was it. Whether by some limit in the Force, or his own insufficient training, he could not see any more than that. It was like he was viewing through a medium powered telescope that was all around him, he could see the shapes of the stars very clearly, but make out little detail.

After growing frustrated with this, Ezra tried another method. He focused on stretching out to people. Ahsoka was still alive somewhere, as were masters Yoda and Kenobi. If he could reach them through the Force, he might be able to get his bearings, or at least some advice. He tried to focus on the _sense_ of the other Jedi he had met, the feeling their presence had left in the Force, and locate it in the galaxy.

Again, no luck. Either he hadn't had enough training, or they simply couldn't be found that way. Then again, they were all hiding from the Emperor and his evil students, so maybe the surviving Jedi had all made sure they could not be found so easily. And if the Emperor could find them this way, what would stop him from finding Ezra if he kept projecting himself so hard through the Force.

As unpleasant as remembering cold shadow on the sith lord's presence was, it reminded him of the Lothal Jedi temple. It had been the most powerful epicenter of the Force he had ever felt in the physical world, as well as a place he had a deep connection to. And their were pieces of it here on this ship.

Applying his mind with a new focus, Ezra tried to penetrate the wreckage to find a connection between it and home. With deep focus, he began to detect the faint energy still emanating from the broken rocks. Without the firm structure, it almost felt as if centuries of Force power was slowly leaking out of the ancient stones. Ezra perceived the tendrils of power like a luminescent mist, but it was not simply evaporating in the air. The energy seemed to be heading somewhere in particular, as if drawn back to its original source, trailing up and away in a direction that he could sense happened to be galactic west.

“Well,” Ezra opened his eyes and broke away from the trance, his patience finally running out. “That was a lot of work to find out what I _already knew_!”

He fell backward against the wall, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. Knowing a general direction would be useless without specific hyperspace lanes he could navigate, and the fact he had not been able to sense the location calling that power back gave him a very bad feeling about the amount of distance involved.

Ezra had never really been good at staying still, and he was starting to itch to get out of this cell. But he also had no idea where to go. He knew nothing about the planet, how hostile it was, or if he had any hope of finding a ship. There should be plenty in the _Chimaera_ 's hangar, but he couldn't escape in one as long as the bottom-side of the ship was buried in the sand.

And it wasn't just a problem of _where_ to go. For the first time since Ezra had stepped onto the _Ghost_ , he felt unfocused. Aimless. There had always been a bigger mission, a purpose, to fight the Empire. They might not know _how_ to do it, but if they stayed on course the details always seemed to work themselves out. Now, finally having a moment to breath after the weeks spent running from one desperate fight to another on Lothal, he didn't know what to do.

It had all seemed so _clear_ back on Lothal. Even before Thrawn had arrived to thwart their plan, Ezra had been able to sense deep down that their battle was only going to end one way. He could see it in the Force, as clearly as a path in front of his feet, and it had seemed so right.

Now, trapped on an alien planet with no plan, no mission, and no friends, Ezra couldn't see what the path was anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Pellaeon put his soup bowl down with careful precision, so as not to spill on the table, which was as slanted as the rest of the ship. Thrawn had called all the remaining top brass together in the officers mess for a review, prioritizing time by having it and dinner simultaneously. It was a welcome break for the near constant repair work since they had landed. The relaxed air almost allowed him to forget their current situation, except that the table had none of the core world pastries or colony world fruits that would normally be found at an officers dinner. Thrawn had enforced strict rationing of their food stuffs in the (hopefully) unlikely event of that they would not locate a means of resupply for some time.

The small talk was allowed to go on for a few more minutes before Thrawn clanked his spoon just slightly against his own bowl, bringing everyone to quiet attention.

“To business,” the Grand Admiral spared any preamble. “Do you have your report lieutenant commander?”

“Yes sir,” Krub produced a data pad and handed it down the table toward the admiral. “A complete list of our remaining supplies, from food to blaster batteries, typed up by my dedicated staff while I was occupied make sure the ship would not crack open in the near future.”

Thrawn excepted the pad, fixing just a fraction of his formidable alien glare on the supply officer. “And you are quite certain this is _all_ of it?”

“Every last bit admiral,” Krub was the picture of innocence. “We even found one or two tons worth that was somehow overlooked by our official records. I am quite sorry for the mistake, be assured it will not happen again.”

There was a vast undetected layer of the bloated imperial bureaucracy that played the system into their own shady enterprises, and the _Chimaera_ 's supply officer was one of them. Normally Pellaeon would never allow such an illegal operation on his ship, but Thrawn had been forced to condone it due to imperial politics. The admiral had made many rivals and enemies within the fleet hierarchy during his rise to power, and they tried constantly to sabotage him by any means, which included rigging the supply departments to cheat him at inopportune moments. Lieutenant commander Krub was Thrawn's secret foil in these circumstances, with his own discrete but formidable talent for manipulating the bureaucracy and red tape to procure anything the admiral needed, whenever he needed it, no questions asked. As payment, he was allowed his own personal operations, so long as they were never too greedy or conspicuous And in true emergencies, like the one they now found themselves in, he had to give up anything that might serve the good of the ship.

“Very good commander,” the admiral made a cursory skim through the list. “Your diligence is a credit to the empire,” he said with a straight face.

“I suppose you will have to find a way to shore up your bottom line after this,” Commander Faro smirked at the supply officer. “Maybe start collecting some fascinating local rocks, you can auction them off to the xeno-geological universities when we get back.”

“Speaking of which,” interjected wing commander Bas, the ranking officer of the ships starfighter pilots. “What progress have we made on getting home?”

Thrawn was still skimming through the supplies list, and made the slightest nod to captain Pellaeon, who had already been briefed. The captain kept his reluctance hidden as he delivered the bad news. “With no doubt whatsoever, we our in an uncharted system,” he informed the officers. “Lieutenant Lomar has worked brilliantly to increase our sensor range, but unfortunately the results merely confirm what we already suspected. We appear to have been flown deep into the wild space of the far Outer Rim, beyond any reach of civilization. We may be as far as ten thousand parsecs from the nearest imperial world, quite possibly more.”

“Emperor's bones!” for commander Faro, this was a very light amount of profanity, considering the circumstances. “You're saying some space vermin carried us farther in one jump than record breaking ships have ever been able to match?”

Commander Krub stroked his chins. “Were we able to get any kind of coordinate readings on the route they took?”

“No,” Pellaeon couldn't think of a way to soften the blow, “We have no data on local hyperspace lanes.”

“We are dead then,” Bas slapped the table.

“The process of charting new hyperspace lanes is hardly a state secret,” Krub interjected.

“But this ship is not designed for it, neither is the crew trained,” the pilot retorted. “It could take years to accomplish either from scratch. And if we ever do, it would take multiple jumps to reach the Empire; if even one is less than precise we could end up molten space junk scatted across this wilderness!”

Faro turned toward Lieutenant Lomar, “I assume you already tried _calling_ for help?”

“Of course,” Lomar's tone was defensive, and if the white knuckled grip on his cup was any indication, the pressure of their situation was starting to get to him. “We have sent out distress calls on all imperial frequencies, and some civilian ones, at the maximum range we could achieve through boosting. But that's not likely to have any chance of reaching home within our lifetimes!”

Major Ayer, commander of the ships stormtrooper detachment, cleared his throat and spoke up for the first time. “Admiral, we may want to cancel any further distress signals until we have reached greater combat readiness. We don't want to attract the wrong kind of attention in our current state.”

There was a pregnant silence, as everyone considered for a moment what might be lurking out here in the wild edges of space. “Do we have a report on the planet?” Bas spoke up quickly.

“My personnel have conducted one,” Ayer replied evenly. “With many sensors inoperable we have relatively little data prior to our landing, and our grounded position limits our reach along the curve of the planet. Nonetheless, there appears to be almost no sign of of sentient life or even basic civilization.” There was just the slightest relaxing of shoulder around the table. We got a few hits that could possibly be power readings, but are more likely natural geothermal activity. There is some water, and vegetation, though very little of either,” Ayer addressed all their most precious needs first. “Sensors do seem to detect surprisingly high life readings that clearly indicate something alive on this planet. It seems to be concentrated in the mountainous regions, which could possibly be hiding more hospitable climates from our scanners.”

The major was known not to let anything phase his calm professionalism, and even this bizarre situation seemed to be reduced to simple and straightforward facts in his view. “We could send probes or manned aircraft for more detailed sweeps, but once again I would recommend waiting until we are in a better position for combat.”

Thrawn apparently finished his review of their supplies, and inserted himself back into the conversation. “What is the status of your remaining troops?”

Ayer had the answer ready immediately. “The greater majority survived the attack, though we were already undermanned after contributing to the occupation force on Lothal. We are now just above nine thousand stormtroopers, all battle ready.”

The admiral nodded, then began to address the table. “At the moment, we have no clear indication of how to return to imperial space, but for the time being we shall proceed as if we do. Repair work will continue as planned, and we should be prepared for a shake down launch in two days.”

He nodded to lieutenant Lomar. “Communications will cut off regular distress signals, but will then launch a series of calls based on my instruction. Imperial high command uses a variety of exclusive signals on undisclosed sub-frequencies, which I can provide, which may have better success in reaching imperial space.”

“We will remain on high alert for any signs of intelligent life. Our stormtrooper contingent will send out recon teams in every direction for ten kilometers, and maintain round the clock patrols within one kilometer of the ship. Tomorrow we will begin combat drills for all personnel not occupied with repairs, and will remain at full readiness whenever we can.”

Thrawn leaned back in his chair, allowing his gaze to sweep across the assembled officers. “The Empire does not know defeat, ladies and gentlemen. True, the challenges before us are daunting. But the galaxy has never seen a fighting force better equipped, better trained, or more fiercely motivated. And I personally know everyone in this room to be the best the Empire has to offer. We will see home again; for though we may suffer losses, we will never be brought to disgrace.”

An appreciative silence was brought to an end when commander Bas cleared his throat, unable to ignore one last rancor sized issue. “What about the, eh, the Jedi sir?”

Expressions of calm and determination slipped from every face in the room except the admirals, and even his look just the slightest bit forced.

“Bridger has made no attempt to leave his cell since our landing,” Thrawn assured them all. “It is likely he is still recovering from the battle over Lothal. Considering the historical rarity of comparable feats among the old Jedi order, I doubt he will be capable of anything so extreme in the future.”

Captain Pellaeon would never doubt his commanding officer, but despite Thrawn's visible confidence this was less than convincing. “Every step has been taken to contain him should he attempt to escape,” he assured the table. “We have seen to it personally.”

“Why, exactly, is he still alive,” Bas persisted. “On top of everything else, why should we keep sitting on a time detonator?”

“Afraid Jedi voodoo is going to get you in your sleep?” Commander Faro was almost obligated to make at least one biting remark each meeting, but even her acrid tone seemed forced now.

“I am not bowing before some superstition,” Bas replied defensively. “But I don't much care for waiting for next swarm of wild beasts to come down on us!”

_And that right there may be as great of a danger to us as as any real power of the Jedi_ , Pellaeon reflected. There was an entire generation of imperial personnel represented here that had grown up in the aftermath of the Jedi purge, and the effect was plain to see. Despite their betrayal of the Republic, the Jedi were still romanticized throughout the galaxy, and all the Empire's attempts to suppress their memory could not put an end to it. In many cases it was almost an encouraged, as factions of malcontents idolized the ancient order as a symbol of the alleged abuses of the new order. Even firm imperial loyalists were not immune to the mysticism around their arcane religion, and facts only became more distorted with each passing year. The reputation of the Jedi knights would loom large in the minds of many crewmen and officers, regardless of the actual threat a single practitioner posed.

_Which, surely, could not be as bad as imagined._

 

* * *

 

_Ezra was striding across the desert, leaving the Chimaera lying in the sand behind him as he walked away. The dunes stretched out in all directions, except for a single pointed peak straight ahead in the distance. He wasn't walking very fast but seemed to cover a lot of ground, and the mountain rushed up on him quickly. The peak towered above him, and at its base was an alcove cut into the rock. Sitting just inside of it,sprawling in the welcome shade, was a lothcat. It seemed to be waiting for him, looking up with its head cocked to one side curiously. It reached out to paw at his leg inquisitively, and he kneeled to scratch it behind the ears._

_The bright air of the desert suddenly went dark, and Ezra looked up to see an object coming out of the sky. It looked vaguely like an Imperial star destroyer; but uglier, its lines uneven and surface scarred and dented. With a growl of poorly maintained engines it stopped a hundred feet above him, and something jumped from the ship to land on the cliff side. Ezra's eyes went wide when he recognized a fyrnock, one of the vicious predators that had nearly killed Hera and Sabine on Fort Anaxes._

_The second that more of the beasts began to jump from the dark ship he sprung from the ground and bolted the way he had come, running as fast as he could to escape. A quick glance over his shoulder told him the beasts were not pursuing him._

_They were descending on the lothcat._

_Ezra skidded to a halt, as he watched the scene with despair. The fyrnock sped down the sheer face of the cliff impossibly fast, appearing giant next to the small cat, which huddled as deep in the crevice as it could, bearing its teeth and pacing in agitation. Ezra turned round to help, but the predators were on top of it before he could run ten feet. Defiant in the face of the snarling beasts, the lothcat leap at its nearest attacker with jaws wide, charging toward a fight it couldn't possibly win._

_Ezra grabbed it in mid-air with the Force, and the cat came sailing into his arms. He spun on his heel and fled across the desert, cradling the little creature to his chest. The fyrnock hit the ground running and charge after him, their seemingly ungraceful lop eating up ground at a terrifying speed. Ezra fought to push himself even faster, hurtling across the uneven sand until his legs ache and his chest burns from the effort._

_It occurred to some calm part of his mind that the fyrnock shouldn't be able to chase him in the harsh sunlight of the desert; but the ship above them was following, keeping them covered in its shadow. And it felt like a trick of the mind but the ugly star destroyer was expanding, spreading a shadow so wide it seemed to be swallowing the daylight._

_Finally, the foremost fyrnock, several leaps ahead of the others, caught Ezra. Sensing it make the final leap, he wired round to face it, juggling the lothcat that still growled defiantly in his arms. The young jedi extended his hand to strike at the beast, when the sand shifted at his feet and something flew out of it and into his grasp._

_The fyrnock impaled itself on the sword, shrieking hideously as it clawed at the burning blade. The weapon shone like golden desert sand, and the cold shadow finally seemed to pull back in hesitation._

_The desert next to Ezra erupted , and he stumbled to the side as a monstrous creature the size of a dewback dragged itself out of the sand. Pulling its way clear with clawed wings and surprising grace for for its solid body, the beast fixed the red-eyed gaze of its several mismatched heads on the approaching swarm and ground its many teeth in preparation._

_The young jedi found his feet again as the fyrnock reached them, raising his sword to a defensive block as the creature at his side bellowed in defiance, and the first rows of claws and teeth crashed into him-_

“AAAAAAHH,” Ezra's shout of panic ended in a pained grunt as he fell from his bunk onto the floor, landing on the shoulder that had been shot just a few days before. He lay there for several moments, panting heavily. He was covered in a cold sweat, and there suddenly seemed to be something sinister about the low nighttime lighting of his cell.

Scrambling to sit up on the floor, Ezra took a deep breath and focused his mind on a jedi calming technique.

That dream, he'd been able to see it so clearly, and still could. And not just see, he could _feel_ it. There was a tension in the Force, a tingling under his skin, not unlike the feeling he got during a fight back on the _Ghost_. He didn't know what it meant, but he could tell that something was about to change on his new path; and one thing was very clear.

_Time to get out of this cell!_

**Please Review!**

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

 

The imperial navy trooper picked up the plate of standard food rations, sweating under his black helmet as he walked toward the cell door with six stormtroopers standing guard. He had served on this ship for several year now, and guarded the detention level when it was filled with captured rebels, murderous pirates, and alien monsters. Now the whole detention center had only one prisoner, and he'd never been more nervous.

As he mounted the steps up to the cell block he caught a strain of conversation from the stormtrooper guard (“So I hear we'll miss the release of the T-17”), but it died as soon as he approached. By order of the Grand Admiral, every step was being taken to ensure the prisoner could not escape. Six stormtroopers stood guard round the clock, he was housed in the first cell closest to the guard station, and the guard staff was augmented by two sentinel battle droids. The higher-ups wouldn't even allow the trooper to be armed when he delivered the meals. The guards were keen to show no sign of shirking; even though after two days of not even a sound from their prisoner, they were starting to relax.

“I see you're having a nice evening then,” he said bitingly. “Just taking your ease as you stand guard against a _bloody jedi knight!”_

“Be careful in there,” one of them responded, his voice laced with false apprehension. “If you turn your back for just a second, he'll take your head off with his mind.”

“I heard stories from my old man, about his time in the Clone Wars,” another offered as he nudged his partner. “Said he saw a jedi make an entire squad of Seps turn on each other. In fact, that was one of the things that made Palpatine order the purge, they were possessing the whole army against him!”

With a long suffering sigh the guard took out his code cylinder and plugged it into the door. “What gives me comfort here is the fact that to escape this cell, you're the ones he will have to kill first.” When the door opened the guard took just a second to put on a brave face, before descending into the cell. “Hey, rebel! Wakey wakey. This is the only meal you get for the next ten hours, not that we couldn't find a much better use for it.”

Taking the safeties off their blasters the six troops stood tense outside the door, watching the guard place the tray on the floor while picking up the one from the last meal, as the jedi stirred and stretched on his bunk. “I, I really did hear things from my dad.” The trooper didn't sound quite so cocky now. “A jedi could look normal, but then you look away and they move lik-”

In the tension a crash sounded from the guard station, and almost as one the troopers jumped with blasters raised in that direction. A navy trooper, a member of the self-named pride of the fleet, had spilled hot caf all over himself.

“You'll eat the gruel and _like it!”_ The guard was suddenly out of the jedi's cell, slamming the control to to shut the door.

“Trouble?” The lead stormtrooper asked.

“What?!” The man took a step back, as if nervous to be too close to the door, and it took him a beat to respond. “Oh! Um, no! No trouble really, that jedi just seems to be expecting some kind of quality service around here. Told him this is a star destroyer, not a cantina.”

Even with helmets still on, the stormtroopers looked skeptical. The guard didn't look so good, he seemed paler suddenly, and he even trembled slightly as they watched. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I, um, I . . “ The man looked hesitant, his expression almost confused as to what it should convey, then he suddenly exploded. “OF COURSE I'M NOT OKAY,” the guard burst out. He flinched immediately, glancing guiltily toward the guard station commander who had probably heard him, before continuing in a quieter tone. “A wizard has his pets grab us and and drop us in the middle of nowhere on the edge of the galaxy, and what happens? I end up having to serve him _dinner,_ that's what!”

“Hey I get that it's thankless but-,” one of the stormtroopers tried to console him, the man was obviously on the verge of some kind of brake down, but he had already wheeled around and stalked back toward the guard station. Another trooper scoffed at his sudden change in behavior. “Idiot.”

Back at the guard station, the naval trooper stumbled down the stairs and sank against the wall. “Still alive I see,” the guard standing in the opposite corner murmured snidely. “Well done.”

The lieutenant commanding the station turned from her semi circular desk and and fixed an accusing gaze on the guardsmen; she'd obviously been able to hear him in the hall. “I am starting to have concerns about your condition ensign.” She looked him up and down, evidently unpleased with what she saw.

“YES,” the man was inappropriately forceful in addressing a superior officer, and stuttered slightly before continuing. “I-I mean, you're right ma'am. I'm really not feeling well. This whole situation with us being stranded out in the middle of wild space, I'm having a hard time dealing with it!”

“The situation _is_ extraordinary,” she didn't sound too sympathetic. “But a life in the fleet is one of adversity and danger. I trust you haven't come to expect anything else because this is a “routine” work station?”

The guardsman raised one hand to rub his neck, fidgeting under her scrutiny. Yah, um, I'm sure I'll get over it, maybe if I could just have little leave back to my bunk, _a bit of rest would do me some good_.” The mans body language became even more awkward, as he dropped the hand it almost waved toward her.

“We're not in the habit of handing out breaks whenever crewmen ask for them!” the lieutenant was visibly irritated. “I think you are starting to forget what kind of standards we demand in the fleet, and especially hear on the _Chimaera_!”

The guard seemed surprised by her response. “No, no ma'am. I just meant, um, we're in kind of a tight spot and, uh, since those idio-I mean, the commanders just seam to have gotten us in even more danger; not that I mind danger, no I love it really, the more the better, but while we're-”

“Enough!” She ordered sharply, looking increasingly disgusted. “I'm letting you off shift early, but only because you look like you're about to collapse were you're standing! I am sending a personnel report to commander Faro, and first thing in the morning you are to present yourself for disciplining. See if you can have a straight answer worked out by then!”

“Oh thank- I mean, yes ma'am. I'm very sorry for my behavior; I promise you, after this I won't give you anymore trouble!”

 

* * *

 

As the turbolift doors closed Ezra sighed in relief, lifting one hand to rub the helmet's irritating chin strap. The focus he had been carefully holding finally cracked, and the naval trooper disappeared, to reveal the young jedi in his usual, now very soiled, clothes. Those, plus the black bent-spoon shaped helmet he'd had a second to nick from the guard.

Up till now, his knowledge of Force illusions had been only theoretical. Kanan had mentioned them more that once during training, but it was a skill he himself had never learned, and was never able to teach Ezra. But the principle seemed pretty simple; think of an image and project it to the minds around you. He'd _seen_ it done before, like by the grand inquisitor in the prison on Stygeon Prime. It even worked on a wider range of people than most mind-tricks, though Ezra could not have told you why.

And even though he had never consciously done it, the young jedi thought that maybe he had used the trick already. Ever since learning about the Force he would occasionally think back to his life before, and wonder if there were signs of his power that he should have seen. There were several times, in the early years of his life as a street thief, that he had managed to go unnoticed when he simply shouldn't have. Times when he was cornered in an alley or caught in a guards light beam; only for them to move on after he'd spent frightening moments doing nothing but wish _don'tseemedon'tseemedon'tseeme!_

So he spent a day practicing, concentrating on putting a different image in the space he occupied, while he studied the sweating guard who brought him every meal. He probably should have practiced longer, but his natural impatience was getting the best of him; and he felt an undeniable sense of urgency about getting out, a sureness that no matter what the reason was that he needed to get off this ship and to cross the desert, time was running out.

“Well, that's phase one complete.” Ezra didn't want to think about how many missions they'd had on the _Ghost_ where things went off without a hitch in the _first_ phase. After that, they tended to go downhill. His hand twitched at his side, missing the comforting weight of his lightsaber. Like any jedi, he'd learned to use the powerful blade like an extension of his own arm; and to not have it now, in the face of an army of imperials, he felt almost naked.

One more piece of his old life, that he'd had to leave behind on Lothal.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken hours of quiet concentration to summon the illusion the first time, and after it broke Ezra couldn't seem to be able to get it back. A great start to phase two.

So he crept through the _Chimaera_ 's passageways carefully, making less noise than a city lothrat. With his focus opened to the Force around him he could feel the presence of every mind for about a hundred yards, and he was able to slip unseen through the momentary gaps between patrols and crewmen rotations. Once or twice he touched onto a weaker mind, and that officer would suddenly decide to take the long way on his route, or double back for something she forgot she needed. It helped that the interior passageways were more deserted than usual, most of the crewmen were still preoccupied with exterior repairs.

Ezra also had the advantage of having been imprisoned on this same ship once before, in the same detention center, during his nearly-botched mission to pullout Kallus when they though he had been exposed. And he still remembered the route from the detention facility to his first destination, the secondary crewman's laundry room. Once he had an imperial uniform he could try getting through the thicker layers of security standing between him and the outside world.

He reached the laundry room without trouble, and after sensing no crewmen inside it he quickly slipped through the door. Lights flickered on as he entered, showing a long narrow room of droids standing motionless along a conveyor belt of laundry machines. Luckily this was at the end of a work shift, and the powered down cleaning droids had already turned out a load of fresh uniforms waiting to be picked up. Ezra would have preferred a suit of stormtrooper armor, but beggars couldn't be choosers and he-

As Ezra began to sort through the nearest pile of laundry he felt a sudden call in the force, and dropping to the floor he lunged away, as a metal fist whizzed through the air above him and put a dent in the wall about where his skull had been an instant before.

Leaping to his feet, Ezra dropped into an instinctive fighting stance and got a good look at his attacker. It was a KX imperial security droid, which had been standing completely motionless in the corner until it attacked him. Ezra didn't know that much about the KXs except that they were tough, vicious, and weren't normally assigned to guard laundry rooms. _Damn you Thrawn!_

“Halt! You have been identified as an escaped prisoner, and are being placed under detention.” The droids cold mechanical voice was almost as menacing as its seven foot frame, as it pointed a Blastech E-11 blaster at him. “Please comply peaceably.”

Ezra noticed a blue light low on the droids chest plate begin flashing red and had the bad feeling it was a call for reinforcements. “Okay!” He raised his hands high and began to turn his right wrist just slightly. “I surrender! Just take me back to my cell and I'll-”

Reaching out of with the Force, Ezra sent one of the laundry droids flying toward the sentry droid, aiming to hit the thin neck where it looked weakest and take it out before-

The KX batted aside the droid and began spraying him with blaster fire, as Ezra dove behind the nearest bin of clothes. As the blaster bolts ricocheted on either side he sensed a squad of stormtroopers coming up the hall outside.

“Karabast!” Ezra dove across the floor and into a space between two parts of the laundry machine. Spotting the grating for the garbage shoot hanging loose, he snatched it with the Force and hurled it across the room with all his might. It flew past the advancing sentry droid and struck the door control behind it, smashing the mechanism just as the stormtroopers arrived.

With a metal shriek the KX droid tore part of the machinery out of its place to have room to grab at Ezra. “You have been ordered to comply!” The droid sounded as if Ezra's stubbornness was unreasonable. “Imperial law requires that you cease resistant behavior and submit to judicial correction.” It had apparently decide they were in too close quarters for blaster fire as it struck out repeatedly with metal fists, forcing Ezra to duck, twist, and scramble backward in the narrow room to avoid bone-crunching hits. “Stand still and submit to arrest!”

The jammed door was suddenly engulfed in a shower of sparks and flames as the stormtroopers outside began to burn through it. Knowing he couldn't fight them and the droid at once Ezra pushed out and sent the KX flying across the room with the Force, jamming it between the machinery and the floor. He whirled around, and the moment the door exploded inward, sent one on the hovercarts stacked with laundry flying toward it, running down the troopers as they charged in. As the first rank fell backward Ezra grabbed one figure and pulled him into the room; reeling him in until the troopers chin collided with his own outstretched arm. Ducking down from several rushed shots from the door way he grabbed the stunned trooper by the arms and pulled him toward the open garbage shaft. He sent the comatose soldier stumbling down first before sending another broken piece of equipment flying toward the his attackers and then jumping in himself. As Ezra caught sight of the soldier reach the end of the shaft and drop into the room ahead of him he realized it was a scout trooper. _Perfect!_

 

* * *

 

The only thing that kept Pellaeon from making a dead run for the grand admiral's office was the overruling dignity of the imperial uniform. With his mind long cleared of the fog of sleep, he strode in to find Thrawn and Major Ayer already there, and hunched over the admirals desk monitor. “Where is the jedi?”

“Loose on the mid-levels, apparently he just tried to steal a uniform, as the admiral predicted,” Ayer informed him without either of them looking up.

“And we're on full alert?” Pellaeon joined them behind the desk.

“All security systems have been activated, and a double guard is on patrol,” Thrawn replied. “We are just waiting for a report from the first responders now.”

As if on cue, the hologram projector in the admiral's desk activated and the head and shoulders of a second lieutenant in a black infantry uniform appeared. “The Jedi escaped!” The young officer hesitated after the outburst, and apologetically moderated his tone. “Sir. We had him cornered in the secondary laundry room, but he-.”

With an indignant cry the officer's image was replaced by that of a KX sentry droid. “K6-HI reporting.” The droid announced. “The rebel managed to escape down the garbage shoot, after incapacitating one trooper and apparently taking him hostage. I shall attempt to subdue him with minimal casualties: but as per imperial regulation I will not allow the presence of a hostage to hinder my pursuit”

The image dissolved into haze for a moment, then the lieutenant reappeared, glaring at something off-screen. “Malfunctioning piece of-” The young man suddenly remembered he was talking to superior officers, and focused back on the Admiral. “Ahh, the hatch to the garbage room was magnetically seal as you ordered sir, but I was just contacted by the troops stationed outside and the jedi has already forced it open. Now I can't get them to reply.”

Thrawn frown in irritation; he had anticipated exactly what Bridger would do if he tried to escape, but had managed to underestimate how quickly he could do it. “The jedi is at large then. Lieutenant remain at your location an await further instruction. K6-HI,” the droid reappeared, “Assume command of the next squad to arrive at his location and begin to sweep the ship at your own discretion. Try to anticipate where the prisoner will go, and incapacitate him before he gets there.”

“I shall attempt to subdue him with minimal casualties,” the droid responded. “But as per imperial regulations, I will not allow the presence of a hostage to hinder my pursuit”

Thrawn's lip moved just slightly, in what could have been a smirk, or just as likely a grimace. “Very good, I leave you too it.” Thrawn switched off the projector, and began to call up a layout of the ship. “A hostage would be more of a hindrance to commander Bridger then an asset, and it is not a strategy he usually employs. The jedi will have been after the man's uniform. Major Ayer,” he turned to his stormtrooper commander. “All troops are to remove their helmets until further notice, any who fail to do so are to be arrested on sight. Patrols are to be concentrated in the outer corridors, around the most ideal points of exit.”

“Sir,” Pellaeon interjected. “I am not sure it is safe to leave the ships interior lightly guarded. The jedi may seize the chance to cripple us before we have finished repairs by attacking essential systems.”

“Such ruthlessness on his part would be unlikely.” Thrawn countered. “But, perhaps we could be more proactive. Major, since Bridger's is on port side, and will likely continue in that direction, have all our patrols starboard begin to make their way port. We may be able to capture him more easily by herding him in.

“I have every trooper deployed admiral,” Ayer assured him. “We'll begin a full sweep of the ship, and I would recommend using two waves of patrol, in case he should slip pass the first. Scanner capable droids will accompany patrols in areas deemed the most likely avenues of escape, and we will systematically cover every inch of this ship. We'll find the jedi if he tries to crawl through the vents.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ezra only made it a few feet through the air vents before realizing he had mostly outgrown this trick. It was a losing fight to try and keep his knees and elbow from banging the sides, and in hastily donned scout trooper armor the clacking hits were louder than he was used to. And the confined space only emphasized that the smell of the garbage chute he'd escaped too was still clinging to him.

Nonetheless, he made it far enough to find what he was looking for, a vent hatch on the shafts bottom side, which was an overhead vent for the corridor a level below him. Prying it open, he jumped down into the hall and used the Force to place the grate close enough to where it had been to at least appear untampered with. If his reckoning was correct, Ezra was on the right level now. He should be able to reach his destination if he could just bluff his way past the patrols. Raising one hand to the small button on the side of his helmet, he switched the transmitter on to listen in on the imperial chatter.

“remove helmets. I repeat, all stormtrooper personnel are to remove helmets at this time. Anyone failing to comply with this order is to be arrested on sight. Port-side patrols are to remain vigilant fo . . .”

“BLAST,” Ezra punched the wall in frustration Thrawn was trying to get ahead of him. Now his plan was going to require even more stealth to succeed, and he would need to sneak past every imperial patrol to-

“YOU THERE!”

_So maybe I should start paying more attention to my surroundings._ Ezra spun around to see three black clad naval troopers heading toward him, each with a pauldron bearing the chimaera figure on one shoulder. After a moments hesitation, he removed his helmet; hoping that would be the least suspicious thing to do.

“Where's your squad trooper?” the lead crewman asked as they reached Ezra.

“It was, uh, my commander thought he heard a noise, yah, and he sent me to check it out while the rest kept moving.”

“Moving where? We didn't see them, and it's standard procedure to avoid separation during this level of alert. What is your operating number?”

“Look,” Ezra put a little more steel behind his tone. “ _We don't have time to worry about procedures right now_. There's a dangerous je-, _prisoner,_ on the lose, and I need to return to my squad.” At his side, the boys hand moved just slightly.

The crewmen straightened up, seemingly staring past him with suddenly placid eyes. “We don't have time to worry about procedures right now.”

“ _I'd better hurry and find them_!” Ezra needed to rap this up, the troopers two companions were looking from him to their leader in confusion.

The man sniffed deeply. “You'd better _snnn_ , you'd better hurry and find _ssnnnn_ ,” the troopers eyes regained expression as his focus was pulled back out of the trance. “Emperors bones! What is that smell?!”

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Ezra sent the man sprawling with a snapping kick to the stomach, then dropped into a fighting stance as the other two raised their blasters.

 

* * *

 

 

“My patrols just conducted a routine check-in, and one failed to respond,” Ayer announced, lowering a comlink from his ear. “On the middle level, slightly forward and starboard of the the garbage shoot Bridger escaped through. I have a squad heading there now to check.”

“He's not trying to escape,” Pellaeon felt ice begin to flow into his blood. “The jedi is heading deeper into the ship. He's going to try and sabotage us! We have to get guards to our most vital areas and head him off before he leaves us crippled here forever.”

“Do it, reorganize the second wave of patrols to guard our most vital machinery.” Thrawn sounded almost mechanical as he gave the order, and his focus was clearly on the schematic on the screen before him, a detailed layout of the star destroyers rooms and passageways. “It is still quite possible he is planning to escape, but how? It would likely be a direct route, and he'd never get past our outlying patrols without a vehicle of some kind. Nothing could leave the hangar, it's still buried in sand. What would the best target be.

Thrawn adjusted the screen to focus on the deep storage chamber, a series of large rooms containing everything from blaster batteries to foodstuffs, including a vehicle pool for various land and air craft not in use. On either side, long vehicle corridors stretched all the way to the ships exterior. The admiral keyed on his own comlink. “K6-HI, where are you? I need you to take your patrol to check a special target for me.”

 

* * *

 

Straightening the chimaera pauldron on his shoulder, Ezra strode into the vehicle pool of deep storage as if he owned the place. Since much of the Empire's training philosophy seemed to be programming people to bow to authority on reflex, his best shot might be to try bluffing his way out of this. And hopefully that was true, because he wasn't going to get many shots.

Luckily, there was his target right there. A row of 6-14 AvA speeder bikes, locked into a row of parking clamps. Ezra strode over to first one in line and began to looking for a maintenance hatch where he could hotwire the parking clamp.

“Hold it!” Ezra looked up to see an imperial crewman stalk toward him with a suspicious gaze. “What do you think you are doing trooper?”

Admirals orders,” Ezra said in what he hoped was a convincingly officious tone. “More guards are being deployed because the prisoner escaped, I'm supposed to patrol outside the ship and _I need a speeder, right away_!”At his side, the jedi's hand moved slightly as he put pressure on the crewmens mind.

He didn't seem to take any notice. “It isn't regular procedure for only one scout to go out at a time?'

“More troopers are on their way,” Ezra put a bit more heat into his tone and concentrated a bit harder. “Now are you going to _give me the key for releasing a speeder_ , or do I have to tell the Grand Admiral why I couldn't be in position _immediately_ like he specifically ordered?”

“I should have gotten a message confirming that kind of order,” this man didn't seem to be _capable_ of having his mind changed. “I'll have to call it in to get approval.”

By this point Ezra had decided he would need to just knock the man out and take the key, but stalled a second to check for other personnel nearby so he would be ready if they noticed. “Oh you can call it in, just be ready to tell the admiral wh-”

The hallway door opened behind him, and with a warning from the Force he dropped into a squat as a blaster bolt whizzed by overhead, taking out the crewman before he had time to do more than yelp. The KX and a squad of stormtroopers had just arrived, and they unleashed a hail of blaster fire as Ezra sprang into the air and somersaulted over the speeder rack and behind an imperial troop transport.

“Cover the right!” The droid motioned to the open area in the middle of the room. “You and you with me, we'll flush him from the left.”

“REALLY wish I had a lightsaber right about now!” Ezra almost couldn't hear himself over the dying lothgoose-like alarm that the blaster fire set off. With no time for a better plan he crouched at the left corner of the transport, then leaped up and struck just as the imperials began to pass through the narrow space between the transport and the wall. In a blur of motion most humans couldn't have seen, he took out one trooper with a chop to the windpipe that also swept him over one leg, then grabbed the other by the arm and used it as leverage to smash him into the wall. The unfortunate trooper went limp from unconsciousness, and Ezra shifted the imperial just in time to use him to block several blaster bolts from the droid. With one long arm it reached out and batted the stormtrooper away, and instead of try to stop it the jedi used the moment to leap clear of his attacker and jump unto the walkway that ran along the storage rooms roof.

Hunkering down to avoid fire from the floor, Ezra quickly looked over the TIE fighters hanging from the ceiling around him. _They've got the right speed, but could I pilot one in such a tight space?_ The vehicle corridor was supposed to be large enough for an AT-AT to walk though, so a properly trained pilot wouldn't have had any trouble. “I should have taken Hera up on those flying lessons!”

A thermal detonator came sailing up from the floor below. Ezra was so preoccupied trying to tell which fighter was the most flight ready (not something he really knew much about to be honest) that he batted it back as casually as if it were a street ball. In the very next instant he realized what he'd done and dove farther down the walk way with a less the jedi-like cry of fright.

_BAAAM_

The detonator must have been on a low setting, but the explosion still rattled the walkway and sent his ears ringing. As Ezra picked himself up he could just barely make out the metallic voice calling for more detonators below him, and he began to race down the walkway as fast as possible while crouching to be less of a target. “Just ONE second,” he set his sights on a TIE at the other end of the room. “One second without imperials trying to kill me, is that too much!”

Apparently it was, because he didn't make it halfway before a couple of well aimed shots took out a beam behind him. With a metal screech the back end of the section of walkway fell out behind him. As he went rolling down towards the floor Ezra thought to try and grab onto something to stop his fall, but realized it would just make him a stationary target. Instead, he managed to get his feet under him and hit the floor in an upright crouch, using the Force to cushion the worst of the impact.

A stormtrooper three feet away didn't have enough time to bring his blaster up before it flew from his hand and Ezra dropped him with a stun bolt. Dodging behind a stack of cargo crates as shots began to ricochet around him, the jedi peaked over the edge to try and find a way out. A speeder bike was probably still his best bet, but their was an advancing line of helmetless stormtroopers and a very angry droid between him and the parking row. There wasn't any cover except a few pieces of debris from the detonator, and a knocked over fluid drum spilling liquefied tibanna gas.

_Ah ha_

Summoning all his energy, Ezra bent his knees and sprang into a massive leap. Somersaulting over the imperials, he hit the floor and immediately reach out and snatched the drum in an invisible grip. It went rolling across the room between the jedi and his attackers, leaving a trail of dangerous fuel. A single well placed shot sent it up in flames. The bright orange wall of fire split the room in two, and with a crackling roar all visibility was lost to a thick haze of smoke.

Pulling his shirt up to cover his nose, Ezra turned and ran to the bike rack. Spying the prone crewman who first confronted him, he reached out and called the mans key cylinder from its place on his lapel. For a second the clip snagged on the mans uniform and began to drag his whole body, then it pulled free and flew into Ezra's hand. Any sense of relief he might have felt as he jammed the cylinder into the rack console and released the first speeder from its clamp was dashed by the sense of several more squads of imperial troops closing in on the vehicle pool. A speeder wouldn't be enough.

By now Ezra had stopped focusing on any of his premeditated ideas, and reacted on pure instinct; trusting that the Force would guide him out of danger. Grabbing the bike, he pulled it to armored troop transport, opening its side door with a wave of his hand.

Huffing with exertion, Ezra managed to manhandle the thing through the narrow transport door. With one last push he forced it in, spinning around and crouching in time to avoid a blaster bolt. The quick burning tibanna was already smoldering out into a thinning smoke, and the battle droid and its troops were coming at him again. Fighting back a wave of anger, Ezra called on his reserves of strength and sent out a pulse through the Force, throwing all his attackers back half a dozen meters. Through the haze he could make out that most of them landed on a lift built into the floor. Smiling, he flipped a switch on the controller and with a squealing grown the platform began to rise. _Thought that was the_ down _button,_ Ezra decided the distraction would still be enough and dashed into the transport, vaulting over the speeder to slide into the drivers seat. Gearing up the engine, he started the ponderous vehicle on a slow turn toward the corridor.

The KX droid staggered to its feet as the lift it was on continued to rise, spying the transport begin to motor past toward the door, its roof almost level with them. “He's getting away!” It grabbed two stormtroopers, who were not fully recovered from being knocked down, and leaped onto the armored speeder, making it rock from the impact. “Open the hatch,” it instructed the troops, who had lost their blasters and were now defenseless. “We have to take out the jedi before it does more damage to the ship. Our only chance is a direct attack!”

Ezra had noticed his new passengers but didn't have time to worry about them. The passage way into the corridor was coming up fast, but someone had had the presence of mind to start lowering the door and he had no idea if their would still be enough space to get through. He tried to split his concentration enough to reach out with the Force and slow the doors descent, but every inch was still going to count.

“No more excuses!” the droid on top had grabbed the trooper that protested the loudest by the neck and lifted him off his feet. “You will go in there and do your duty to your Empire or I will strap you to the engine exhaust and-”

Its built in sensors went off before it could finish the threat, and the droid turned in time to see a blast door descending in front of him.

Sinking the transport as low as the controls would allow him, Ezra whopped with joy as he cleared the door and shot of down the corridor The loud bang he heard over head as he passed through was pretty satisfying. The several squads of imperials jogging toward him that had to desperately push over each other to either side as he sped sped were even better.

 

* * *

 

“He's in the corridor,” Ayer reported unnecessarily “At that speed he'll reach the door in a few minutes.”

“The walker will get him then,” Pellaeon leaned back in his chair, relieved that Bridger had been so predictable. Had he lashed out more aggressively, the jedi could have done immense damage to their stranded ship.

“No,” Thrawn had not taken his eyes of the screen, with elbows on the desk and hands clasped as he watched the transports mad dash. “It won't.”

 

* * *

 

Ezra gunned the engine as far as it would go as he sped down the large hall, and it suddenly seemed as if the boxy transports was terribly slow. He didn't know if the the vehicle corridor was equipped with blast doors or anti-personnel ray shields, and he didn't want to find out. Now that he had a straight shot to the freedom his plan pretty much went down to blasting through, and there wasn't much that could stop him now.

_CCCRRIKKKK,_ Ezra's head snapped back over his shoulder as the transports top hatch was torn open, and the KX droid dropped into the cramped compartment. “Oh you've got to be _kriffing_ kidding me.” Ezra moaned, “Who fired up your circuits?”

“The taking of this vehicle in unauthorized theft.” Ezra didn't know if that was supposed to be an explanation or just a statement. Almost stooped to fit under the low ceiling, the droid picked up a heavy fire extinguisher hanging on the back wall and hefted it like a grav-ball. “I have unfortunately been ordered to avoid terminating you; but if you do not top the transport and submit to detent-”

Flipping a switch to lock the controls into their current setting, the jedi spun round and snapped off three rapid shots with he blaster. He had only a second to aim before ducking to avoid the extinguisher being hurled at him, and so acted mostly relying on the Force. His bolts struck the droids left shoulder at the joint, and its arm dangled from a small bit of metal and wires. Ezra followed that up with a shove through the Force, knocking the machine back onto its rear against the back wall.

The windshield was now mostly obscured by a spiderweb cracks from the extinguisher blow, but he could see the end of the corridor now, and saw the armored doors on either side slowly sliding shut. Shrinking between them was the backdrop of a starry desert sky, but a squad of stormtroopers stood in front of it with an AT-ST standing over them like a metal predator, all leveling their blasters at the approaching transport.

Trying to ignore the blaster bolts that began to erupt around his vehicle, Ezra turned toward the speeder bike behind him and began to power it up. He would probably only get one shot at this.

With so many distractions it was only the prick of a Force warning behind his neck that allowed him to stop the tool box that came sailing from the back to almost hammer the speeders back engine. Ezra tried to sent it flying back toward the rising droid when a laser blast hit rocked the transport and broke his concentration. Stepping over the projectile the droid lurched forward to attack the jedi again, grabbing the ceiling with its good right arm to keep on its feet. “This is your final chance to compl-”

But Ezra had already grabbed the speeder seat and vaulted over it. Using the Force to add momentum to his movements, he flipping forward and brought one foot into a powerful downward kick, knocking the droid to the ground and snapping its left arm off entirely. “Alright,” as the droid struggled to rise he called the extinguisher into his hand “I'll comply.” He brought it down on the droids head with a loud clang.

The blast doors were now too far closed for the transport to fit through by the time it reached, and the officer inside the AT-ST ordered the pilots to pause for more carefully aimed shots into the narrow space. “Aim for the laser turret, he may try to use it as he slow down.”

But the transport didn't slow. “Should we pull back sir?” one pilot asked. “If he hits the door it could be quite an explosion.”

“He'll won't have the nerve to hit,” the junior lieutenant replied. “Maintain precise fire on the target.

The walker continued to lay into the now easy target. Most of the shots hit, pitching and rocking the transport. But the box like armored speeders were designed to take punishing fire, and it continued to accelerate toward them at a suicidal pace. “Intensify forward fire!” the now panicked lieutenant ordered. In the furious barrage a hit took out one of the vehicles rear engines and is staggered and rocked under the blow, until the transport swung straight and bore down on the gate like a raving bantha.

“He's going to hit, he's going to hit!” the pilot pulled back on her controls and the walker frantically staggered backward in a vain attempt to get out of the way.

And at the last second, the transport swerved on its momentum and brought its long side to face the closing door. Right before it hit the side hatch slid open, and with a high engine wine a speeder shot out. The transport struck the armored blast doors with a thunder of colliding metal; and almost quicker than the eye could follow the jedi bowled through the squad of fleeing troops and hurtled through the walkers legs as he roared to freedom. Several panicked shots went wide as the imperials instinctively tried to stop his escape; but by the time the troops, walker, and even some of the star destroyers smaller laser cannons collected their thoughts well enough to train on their target, it was shrinking off into the distance.

 

* * *

 

A very battered K6-HI stood before the the Admiral and Captain, with one arm missing and an eye socket broken and unglowing in a way that made his resemble a human with a black eye. “Our sensors are growing spotty with the increasing distance, but it appears the jedi is heading for the nearest mountain range. Shall I continue pursuit?”

“Bridger took off at a dead sprint in terms of speeders,” Pellaeon informed the Admiral. “And has already outmaneuvered the sentries we placed around our perimeter. We have our own speeds ready now, but we have no chance of catching him before he can reach the mountains, and it will become much more difficult to track him there.”

“Shall I continue pursuit?”

“No, thank you K6, we shall not try to engage Bridger at this time,” Thrawn replied.

“I employed every bit of my data and conditioning when I engaged the prisoner,” the droid stated adamantly. “But the jedi still escaped. Having failed the Empire, I submit myself for deprogramming.”

“Your dedication does the Empire credit, but that will not be necessary.” Thrawn almost looked amused. “Report to maintenance and await further orders. Dismissed.”

With a curt nod the tarnished droid wheeled round and made for the interior of the ship, while the admiral and captain both turned to the turbolift. Pellaeon waited until the doors closed in front of them before asking turning to the Admiral. “What now?”

“The young jedi is becoming more decisive,” Thrawn mused, red eyes narrowed in thought. “He escaped by a very direct route, and allowed no obstacle to hinder him. Has he simply matured in his power, or perhaps found some new . . . motivation?”

“Surely he could not have changed so much in just a few days?” Pellaeon countered

“There are new variables to consider,” Thrawn elaborated “Like us, Bridger is out of his element. For the first time since he became a practicing jedi, to our knowledge, he is alone. Whereas before he had the guidance of his team, and particularly his master, he will now operate without any support, crutch, or oversight.” The turbo lift stopped, and they departed to walk to the next. “This may make him cautious; wanting to avoid any major confrontation now that he has no safety net to catch him. On the other hand, he may have only become more desperate He now truly has nothing to lose, and no one to keep him in check. Under such circumstances the young jedi may try to find familiarity by falling back into the only aspect of his old life he still can achieve; continuing his personal war against the Empire.” The admirals tone was casual, considering the potentially dire threat in this line of thinking. “We will have to increase our efforts to repair the ship by any possible means, while redeploying our defenses against a outer attack.”

“All reports show we are making quick progress sir.” Pellaeon informed him. “Our engineering chiefs are confident we can do a shakedown launch by noon tomorrow.” The Captain glanced at his chronometer wearily. “Actually, it would be noon _today_ by now.”

“And our projection on weapons systems is still at eighty percent battle readiness by that time?” Thrawn asked.

“The most recent reports clarify that we will be between seventy-five and eighty.” Pellaeon looked apologetic. “Though they do expect it will be closer to the lower estimate.”

The summary continued as they reached the next turbolift. “If all goes well, our shielding may reach seventy percent,” the captain was somewhat contrite. “The patches along our hull will be perfectly capable of withstanding the normal rigors of space flight, but until we reach a shipyard we will have some major weak spots in terms of battle armor.”

“A non-ideal achievement, but unavoidable under the circumstances,” the Admiral was not the kind to blame bad fortune on officers and crew. “We will proceed with a shakedown launch as planed. Confer with Lieutenant Lomar and make sure his team has everything they need for the new sensor equipment, we must begin scanning for hyperlanes as soon as we clear orbit.”

“And Bridger?”

Thrawn was quiet for a moment, and Pellaeon imagines the streams of information that must be going through the admiral's mind. “The simplest solution is, very often, the best. As our young jedi friend was apparently so eager to explore this planet, for the moment we may be well advised to leave him to it.”

 

**Well, that took a lot longer than it should have. The chapter also turned out longer than I expected. I kept thinking things like _Thrawn should have anticipated_ or _Ezra could just do this_ , etc. Maybe I'm overthinking this story. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite so long. No promises though.**

 


	4. CHapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing**

 

 

Ezra eased up on the speeders controls, slowing it to a halt in the middle of the canyon. Resting on the control sticks he looked at the sandy rock outcroppings on either side, and tried to spot any sign of the life he could sense all around him.

After leaving the _Chimaera_ behind, Ezra had followed his instincts and struck out for a mountain range in the distance, the only thing in sight other than rolling dunes of sand. He'd sped on through the surprisingly cold desert night and on into the morning, stopping only briefly to ditch the scout armor other than the utility belt and helmet. The size of the mountains tricked him, and what he thought would be a short trip dragged on hour after hour. The flatness of the horizon concealed an unending series of dips and rises, and were it not for his jedi techniques he might have gotten something like sea sickness as he sped on. Strong winds nipped at him in the chilling dark, spraying him with gusts of sand and threatening to buffet him off course.

Ezra kept his mind fixed on his target throughout the tedious and tiring journey. In the total natural darkness the sky overhead was a endless sea of stars, with four moons of varying sizes swimming between them. With nothing else to focus on, he had a rare moment to simply watch the sunrise when it came. It slowly rose over the dunes, turning the clear sky and golden sands a brilliant red. He found himself appreciating the moment, but it only took an hour or two before he was cursing it. As the rising sun chased the night away it replaced the mildly uncomfortable chill with a brutal heat.

After hours of watching the mountain range refuse to get any bigger in the distance, Ezra was absentmindedly caught off guard when he finally began to reach it. The tall flat-topped peak was the beginning of a narrow range of shorter cliffs that rose up behind it, trailing off in the distance like a natural wall, that later spread out on either side.

It was in the shadow of the first peek that he found the canyon, a gently sloping divide running down the center of the range like a surprisingly smooth road. Ezra barely hesitated before motoring slowly down it; he felt a faint pull in the Force leading him there.

It had been a very weak and ill-defined feeling, but as soon as he had cliffs on either side it hit him. Life. There was life all around him now, as much as he had ever felt during the busiest hours of Lothal's main streets. He just couldn't see any sign of it.

“HELLO,” his call echoed down the canyon. “ANYBODY HOME?” The feeling around him didn't seem to react at all to his calling out. “I COME IN PEACE.”

Ezra had never felt something quite like this before. He seemed to be surrounded by living, moving things, but he didn't sense _individuals_. Instead of many different creatures, it almost felt like one mind and one will, but with a thousand different heads. The closest thing he could think of was the Bendu; the beings presence in the Force had seemed far larger than his actual body. Not in the way of most Force users, where one could sense the greater _power_ they had in the Force, but as if he _occupied_ the space all around him. Still, this was different, a much more solid feeling, and Ezra expected to see a physical cause for it pretty soon.

When he stopped, right where the mountain range widened and more paths opened up on either side, it was because a greater feeling hit him. Immediately in front of him was a large flat bowl hemmed in by the cliffs, occupied by conical stone mounds. They looked a lot like the rock formations on Lothal, with upward running grooves cut into the side. But there was something a little too neat about them, the still imperfect shape of the rocks just didn't seem as irregular as anything natural should be. And their seemed to be a pattern to their place in the little valley, they looked vaguely as if they formed irregular, intersecting circles.

Ezra got up off the bike and shed the scout-trooper helmet. He walked slowly toward the center of the valley, trying to ignore the feeling of being surrounded, or how loud his footfalls seemed to echo. He paused for a moment closing his eyes as he tried yet again to focus his mind well enough to get a read on the alien life all around him.

He opened his eyes again and stepped forward-only to jump back in surprise “AAH!”

They had suddenly appeared maybe one hundred feet in front of him. Insects of some kind, the biggest he had ever seen. Each stood on two hind legs, with long thin thoraxes that bent of from large abdomens at almost a forty-five degree angle. Large arms sat on thin shoulders, and a second pair of smaller arms sprouted from each mid-rift. The digits on each limb ended in wicked looking claws, and the thick carapaces looked like natural armor. They were about four feet tall at the head, but a pair of thin waving antenna, feathery looking at the ends, added at least another foot to each. There were six of them, standing in the shadow of one of the larger rock features in the valley.

“Hey,” Ezra raised both hands partway in a gesture that he hoped they recognized as meaning 'I come in peace.' “I take it you're the welcoming committee?”

The bugs didn't respond, other than to wave their antenna in what might have been communication Their red, hexagon covered eyes stair straight and unblinking at him.

Then with no apparent prompt, one of the middle bugs started to walk toward him, and all the others followed a moment later. Their bodies unbent as they all got down on four limbs (the middle arms were too short to reach the ground), walking along as easily as they had stood on two.

Ezra didn't want to give any offense, but he couldn't help a few steps back as the alien bugs came at him. He had never had a problem with aliens, or animals; but these creatures were entirely unknown, and he didn't know for sure which category they belonged in.

When the bugs were just getting a little too close for comfort they stopped, halting in a straight line and standing back up on their hind legs. The one directly in front clacked a couple sets of mandibles around its mouth; extending its first set of arms as if in a hug, then retracting them. It was obviously trying to communicate, and Ezra tentatively raised one hand in greeting, doing his best to smile sincerely.

Without moving any other part of its body, the bug swiveled his antennae forward and rubbed them up and down the raised hand. “Aaaah, um, hello there.” Ezra forced down the instinct to snatch his hand back, and only because his jedi senses detected no danger. “I'm Ezra, Ezra Bridger. I'm a . . . visitor, from off world and . . . I don't suppose you can understand me can you?”

_Greetings Ezrabridger_

_“_ Woah _,”_ As amazing as that was, Ezra barely reacted besides an astounded smile. The most bizarre thing about hearing the creature speak in his mind was that it felt . . . natural. As if he had another pair of ears that had been closed until now. “What . . . who are you?”

_Turut_ , the bugs mandibles had stopped moving, but its antennas twitched as its head cocked at him. _And we are of the Kind._

“That's, that's a pretty neat trick,” Ezra looked over the creatures with amazement. He'd long ago learned to feel the meaning of languages he couldn't understand, but this: this bug was speaking directly to his mind, and he understood every word

_Most take much longer to learn to speak to the kind_ , Turut commented, though it didn't sound very surprised. _If you will follow, the nest wants to meet you._ It pointed to the rock form the bugs had appeared next to.

“Uh, sure. Lead the way.”

Without further comment, it and all the other bugs turned and began scurrying on all fours back the way they had come. They didn't bother looking to see if Ezra actually followed, and he had to take off at a jog to keep up with them. “So, you guys are the, um, natives of this planet.

_No_ , Turut replied. _We came to Karrasi at the beginning of the age, escaping when the old empires died._

“Okaaaay,” Ezra had no clue what they were talking about.

Hidden under its shadow, there was a crack into the side of the rock formation. The bugs slipped through in single file. Here Ezra finally hesitated; and his senses began to feel danger. There was something menacing about the nest, but it didn't seem to come from the bugs. Often there was at least a little resistance when a jedi tried to read another beings thoughts, but when Ezra reached out to them the bugs were like an open book. And he didn't sense anything from them that seemed even remotely malicious If anything, he expected to get a very warm welcome. So were was the danger coming from?

He had been hesitating for just a moment, until the last bug, who was apparently waiting for him, clacked its mandibles and nodded to the hole, as if to say 'come on.'

Alert for any signs of danger, Ezra stooped low and eased into the cave, squinting into the sudden dimness. The first sight inside was not particularly impressive; there was just one large room taking up the entire space within the rock walls, with nothing in it but a hole in the center of the floor big enough for several lasats to climb through at once. The _feeling_ of it, now that was impressive. The bugs were doing something to insulate their caves because the temperature was too perfectly mild to be natural. It was such a relief from the scorching heat of the desert that Ezra finally noticed how sticky and soiled his clothes were, clinging to him with sweat. _Hope they're not very sensitive to smells_.

The bugs who had greeted him outside were now flanking him, and a new one standing in front of him stepped forward. _After traveling across the desert, you should not be distressed about your appearance_

Ezra grimaced when he realized that comment had been a response to his thought, he was making his mind a little _too_ open to his surroundings. “Oh uh, thanks I guess.

The bug lifted one hand, offering him a large clay bowl filled with water. Ezra hesitated for a moment, but he couldn't sense any danger, so he excepted it with a grateful sort of half bow. The water tasted clean enough, and he drank it all down in several deep gulps.

The next thing they offered him was a plant, one with large stocky stems that became ferns halfway along. _You feel hungry_ , was the only explanation

With a bit more hesitation, Ezra excepted the plant. It looked about as appetizing as the grass on Lothal, but he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and now that his focus on reaching his destination was over, he really felt like it. He broke off one stem and forced himself to bite off a few fern leaves and tried chewing them, hoping he wouldn't offend his new hosts as his face scrunched at the bitter taste. It wasn't the worst thing he'd ever eaten, between scrounging through trash on Lothal and experimenting with weird alien foods in cantinas and restaurants throughout the outer rim (he'd learned quickly that Zeb made recommendations for his own amusement). Still, it had to be up there.

_No, the stems._

“Oh,” feeling rather foolish, Ezra spit out the ferns and took a crunchy bite out of the stock. It tasted surprisingly good, though kind of raw, and he began biting them with the eagerness of a Lothhare

_Most offworlders find it agreeable._

Ezra choked on a mouthful of food. “Ouo ave,” _gulp_ “you have _visitors_ here!?”

_Yes._ The bug said simply. _Many come from other worlds too ask us for the planets stones. We are curious why your people have not made an offer?_

It took Ezra a moment to realize the bug was talking about the Imperials. “You, you guys know about the star destr- uh, the ship out there?”

_It is a very large ship._ Somehow, this reply contained no sarcasm.

“Those aren't my people!” Ezra's voice was firm. “They're Imperials, servants of an evil ruler from far, far away. My people fought them as they spread throughout the galaxy; conquering worlds, and enslaving the people who live on them!”

_Is that why they came here? To conquer the Nest?_ Ezra sensed the bugs around him take this news very seriously, but the one he spoke to didn't sound alarmed or worried. Maybe they just didn't express emotions the same way.

“Well, no; they came here by accident.”

_And what will they do?_

“I'm not sure,” Ezra was feeling rather helpless at the moment. “Once their ship is repaired they may just try to leave.”

_We watch them,_ the bug explained, giving no explanation of how. _If they try to subjugate us, we will fight. If they leave, we will not hinder them. If they choose to join the Kind, we will welcome them._

Ezra was beginning to wonder if what he was trying to explain to these creatures was getting confused. “These people, they're never going to join you. Not in any peaceful way.

_The Nest welcomes all, though for many years few have come to join,_ the bug insisted. _Just as we welcome you._

“Well, thank you.” Ezra nodded to the bug. “Oh, by the way, what's your name?”

_Turut._

Ezra blinked in confusion. “I thought he was named Turut?”

_That is right,_ the bug replied, _we are._

“Wait, do you _all_ have the same name?”

_We are of the nest._

“Okay, I think we misunderstood each other,” Ezra prompted. “I didn't mean the name of your species, I meant you individually?”

_We have no outsiders here,_ the bug replied with the same monotonous tone. _All are the nest_.

“So . . . you're just all called Turut,” Ezra had heard of some large insects, even intelligent ones, being connected by a hive mind. Apparently that' was what he had found. That would explain why through the Force he sensed one being, but the idea that he was surrounded by thousands of creatures with no individual conscious was scary in a way he could not quite explain.

_But we linger here, Ezrabridger_ , the bug he now considered Turut Two (even if that wasn't accurate). _You are invited to receive the hospitality of the Nest while you stay on this world. If you desire you may remain and live in the Kind._ With that, the bug turned and scuttled toward the hole behind it, and all the others joined it.

Not sure what else to do Ezra followed, still munching on the cave plant they had given him. There was no ladder or staircase, the bugs climbed right down the vertical side of the wall. Ezra had no choice but to follow, pocketing his remaining lunch and easing his way down the rock wall. He was quick enough for a human, but still slower than the bugs, some of whom politely fell behind to keep him company. The little tunnel ended by opening into the ceiling of the next cave, some two stories above the floor. The bugs simply continued to crawl along the rock, going upside down with no apparent difficulty. Ezra didn't think he could pull that off and just dropped to the floor, cushioning himself with the force.

It was even darker in here, as they seemed to be out of the reach of any natural daylight. Ezra pulled out a glowrod from his trooper belt, twisting it on as he peered around. Now he was in the main part of the hive (nest? Colony?) and completely surrounded by the insects. This chamber was apparently just a hallway, with many tunnels branching off in every direction. A steady stream of bugs passed through, most taking little notice of him. But those near by swarmed around, rubbing their antenna over him lightly enough to only just be felt. “Aaaah hhhey,” He lifted his arms apprehensively, forcing himself not to shoo them away. “Your guys are, uh, really friendly, aren't you.”

_They are learning to recognize your presence,_ one bug was standing patiently a few feet away, as if waiting for him. He thought it might have been one of those that met him, but he couldn't be certain. _They mean no harm._

Ezra was pretty sure that was true, but the sensation was just so uncomfortable. A few bugs began waving their antennae a bit harder, brushing away sand from his clothes. At this he closed his eyes, and sent out a message through the Force, _back up!_

Immediately, the bugs around him all took a step back, now gazing at him a little more intently. A few that had only been passing by now stopped, and turned their gazes at him too. He got the feeling they were confused, maybe even a little hurt. Ezra didn't feel very bad for not wanting to be swarmed, but he tried to send out an apology of sorts. Once again he opened his mind to the bugs all around; if they wanted to recognize him, maybe they would settle for his mental presence.

This seemed to satisfy them. Almost as one, the crowd dispersed, and all the bugs gave him at least a few feet of space as they scattered to wherever it was they needed to go. All except the one who had been waiting for him, which now came closer. _If you will follow, it would be best if you washed soon._

So, Ezra followed it through the series of winding tunnels and chambers that the bugs called home. It was rather like the krykna spider nest on Attalon; only it was far bigger, and nothing seemed to want to kill him. There was much more variation in the tunnels though, the size and shape of them changed frequently. Ezra duck his head in low passages and squeezed his way through narrow cracks; hurrying after his guide across floors of stone, gravel, and sand, and threading through mazes of stalagmites. Over the persistent patter of moving bugs, he heard distant noises, falling rocks, the steady drip of water, and surprising gusts of wind, some strong enough to ruffle his hair. There didn't seem to be a straight path to anywhere, they took a confusing series of turns and scaled up and down tunnels so steeply inclined he had to half crawl.

The bugs also seemed to forget his request for space, and many times he had to push through crowds of the smaller creatures. At least they didn't seem to be trying to examine him anymore, they just didn't understand the concept of privacy. It didn't help that they traveled over floors, walls, and ceilings interchangeably; a few times he had to walk bent over to avoid coming face to face with bugs moving around over head.

He was also keeping his mind open, far longer than he did with most any other creatures. It was surprisingly easy, since the bugs had some kind of telepathy of their own it took only a little effort to maintain a link. The tingling sense of it was constant; in his own mind he could hear hundreds more, like the background chatter of a large crowd. His hesitation and discomfort started to slip as he got used to it surprisingly quickly. Besides, they might get suspicious if he tried to hide himself.

“So um, how often do you get offworlders here?” Ezra bent over and braced on hand against a sanding incline as he slid down it. If he talked to the bug leading him, it made it easier to recognize it in the crowd. They all looked pretty much the same, except that some were smaller, and a few had nicks and bruises, even some missing limbs and antennae

_Often_ , the bug didn't even look back at him, but he felt it was giving him its full attention, _but not regularly They come only when they need to purchase more stones, and it has long been known that they may arrive at anytime that is convenient The next may come in two days, or in two months._

“You said they _buy_ stones from you,” Ezra thought perhaps they had a miscommunication again. Considering the simple lifestyle these creatures seemed to live by, he wasn't sure what money would be worth to them. “What do they pay you with?”

_Treasure,_ was the simple reply. _They create treasures for the joy of the nest, for which we give them stones. Offworlders use them,_ it seemed to anticipate his next question, _to power their ships through the stars._

_The planet must have some kind of natural power source then,_ Ezra thought as they finally reached their destination A cave larger than most they'd seen, with water running through the middle of it. It fell out a hole in the far wall and trickled into a little stream, that opened up, into several small pools before it disappeared into the next wall. The room felt comfortably hot, and there was an odd, mineral smell in it.

_The spring comes from deeper in the rock_ , his guide informed hi- No, actually it was a different bug, it just looked and sounded completely identical! _It is perfectly safe, and you may take as long as you want_.

Ezra approached it skeptically. He watched as a steady stream of bugs scampered in, submerged themselves totally several times, and then walked right out again. Sensing no danger from the Force, and finding it hard to believe the Kind would lie to him, he dipped one hand in. It was definitely different from normal water; thicker, with a strange viscosity to it. When he pulled his hand out however, the fluid did not stick to it.

_Would you like us to take your cloths?_

“Um, do you have anything I could change into?”

_No._

“Yah,” Ezra looked down at his dirty, sweat-stained outfit. “I think I'll just hold on to them, thanks anyway.”

An awkward pause dragged on for several moments, while Ezra's guide just starred at him expectantly as the other bugs went back and forth taking no notice. Forcing down his hesitation Ezra started to disrobe, trying to ignore the dozens of being all around him. It was actually rather easy; the Kind didn't wear clothes after all, so why should they have any reaction to him undressing. And no point trying to have secrets in a hive full of creatures that could read your mind, it would be easier just to be open with them.

With that settled, Ezra dipped one toe into the slightly syrupy water, before wading in all the way. After a couple days in a cell and a jaunt across the desert, the warm spring felt like heaven. He lay down against the bank to submerge himself up to the neck, closing his eyes to bask in the glory of it. _Looks like I might be here a while_ , Ezra thought. He still had no idea what his vision had been about, but the sense of urgency was slowly slipping away. He didn't know what he could do other than wait around to meet some of these offworlders, if they ever showed up. And if any other trouble appeared before then, he could deal with it. In the mean time, the young jedi was pretty sure he deserved a little break from carrying the weight of the galaxy around.

 

* * *

 

The many gears and rotors of the power generators began to whirl to life, with a steady drone that built into a mighty roar. Throughout the deeper parts of the ship a quiet hum could be heard, and a subtle vibration of healthy engines could be felt through deck plating. With an order from the bridge, the star destroyers main repulsors were activated, and after days of immobility the huge starship began to rise from the planets surface.

A whirlwind of sand billowed out from beneath the _Chimaera_ and rose in all directions around it, forming a cloud that could probably be seen for miles. A slight pressure could now be felt pushing one to the floor, as the ship forced its way up against the planets gravity. It was an unfamiliar sensation for crewmen of a craft designed to move freely through open space; but because it emphasized their much anticipated escape, it was actual a great relief to feel.

And the landscape through the spotless new viewport lost its slight tilt as the ship finally leveled out off the ground. Even though Captain Pellaeon knew it was completely immaterial, looking at the unbalanced image had been a persistent irritation for him.

Quite applause broke out around the bridge, sincere but properly composed, and he could imagine more raucous cheering going on in other parts of the ship. Even he failed to hide the wide smile that broke under his mustache, and the captain looked over his shoulder to give a congratulatory nod to the admiral.

Thrawn projected the perfect image of calm, almost untroubled satisfaction. But he returned the gesture with a hint of gravity in his gaze, reminding his second-in-command that their celebrations may be entirely premature.

Having now freed themselves from the planet, there was no longer anyway to ignore their bigger problem; they were trapped in the middle of uncharted space, countless lightyears from civilization. The ships top brass was putting up its best front to appear calm and undaunted, though the day before had seen a series of long meetings produce only the most basic plan to get home. It had even been suggested that they sabotage the repairs slightly to prolong the relaunch; but most worried that they would not be able to hide the signs of tampering well enough, and if exposed they could cause the very kind of panic they hoped to avoid.

Upon rising more than a hundred feet from the surface, the _Chimaera_ began to leave the dust clouds behind and proceeded through clear open skies. Turning away from the viewport, Thrawn brought the bridge crew back to attention. “Are we receiving the ordered reports?”

“Yes sir,” the quiet excited chatter in the left crewpitt dissolved in an instant, as ensigns turned back to their stations. “We have received a red-flag from engineering,” this brought total seriousness back to the bridge. “They report fluctuations in the power feed for the primary generators. Recommend decreasing the strain until they can isolate the problem.”

“Cease ascent,” the admiral replied. “Hold vertical position and begin cruising forward at one-half standard orbital speed, heading north by northeast.”

_The opposite way,_ Pellaeon thought, _of where the jedi apparently escaped to yesterday._

Thrawn took the comlink from his jacket pocket and keyed it on. “Commander Bas.”

“Receiving!”

“Your pilots are to begin a survey of the planet as soon as they can launch,” Thrawn ordered. “Standard eight point pattern in all directions. Launch standard TIE/LNs only, no defenders.” The hangar of the _Chimaera_ had been loaded with the first batch of the admiral's precious fighters, meant to be properly debut in mass in the next confrontation with rebel forces. “The priority is on natural water sources and any signs of life. If they encounter anything believed to be sentient, they are to avoid interaction until ordered otherwise.”

“Right away sir!”

“You have the ship captain,” Thrawn nodded to him and turned to stroll toward his office. “Inform me as soon as the generators are fully operational, or there are any other developments.”

As Thrawn departed, Pellaeon descended into the crewpitt bearing the navigators station, waving away crewmen who stood to attention. This was something he knew the admiral would have preferred to do himself, but such a breach in fleet norm as a flag officer directly supervising grunt work might push the crew toward drawing an accurate conclusion about the direness of their situation. “Is everything in readiness Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant Lomar sat back into the chair at a spare sensor consul and resumed typing programs into the ships computer..

“Very nearly sir,” the hard-used communications officer was looking lean and baggy eyed from almost a week of constant work. The sensor relays should now be sufficient to begin sending out hyperwave resonance signals, and to take in the feedback. We are still having trouble setting up the ships computer with the algorithms to analyze them, but we can begin sending immediately and record the data until its ready.” Such was the most modern way of mapping new hyperspace routes, using sonar like hyperwave signals to detect a clear path through space.

“With all the fine tuning you can do, how close to standard imperial scouting can you get,” Pellaeon pressed?

Lomar hesitated, before replying honestly. “We won't achieve the standard of sensors that were specifically made for exploration. And the computer may have more trouble than we predict in analyzing while it must also run basic ship systems. Our margin of error will likely be between fifteen and twenty, possible twenty-five.”

Conscious of the sidelong glances of the other crewman, the captain suppressed a grimace By the standards of space travel, those that was an uncomfortably large margin.

“We will also have less than half the standard range,” Lomar plowed on. “Readings may only reach two systems away at any one time.”

“We'll have to leapfrog then,” Pellaeon finished for him, making sure his frustration didn't show. _It's only a couple_ thousand _parsecs after all, how long could it take?_ He realized there was a certain amount of irony in that thought. They actually made journeys of that length many times, and took it for granted. Just the return to Lothal after the last summons from Coruscant had been at least two hundred thousand parsecs, probably more. But that was in 'civilized' space; well charted thoroughly traveled, with long routes established from one critical world to another. Now they were deprived of such luxuries, in circumstances not seen since the ancient wars of the Republic.

“Well, do what you can,” he told the sorry looking lieutenant. “Once the final problems with the generators are fixed we're going to leave the planets atmosphere, then make a series of micro jumps toward the outer edges of the system. We should be able to begin mapping procedures within a day, unless we're hit by _another_ alien attack.”

 

* * *

 

Hands extended, Ezra willed a stone at the top of the pile to rise off the ground. Carefully, it moved from its place in the heap of newly fallen rock and slowly lowered to the floor at the foot of the pile. Another followed, then another, and still more until a pair of twitching antennae emerged from the debris. A bug fought to crawl its way free of the rocks, followed by a dozen more.

Ezra heard someone laughing and realized it was himself. After he finished his mineral bath the Kind had taken him to see the farm-like caverns were they cultivated a surprising array of strange cavern plants, like the one he had eaten. Partway through the tour, his senses had been buzzed with a feeling of shock and dismay near by. He felt it through his link with the mind of the hive, which seemed to grow stronger every hour. An entire new community, a new race of beings that he could live with, and he could know them all in an instant just by opening his mind. After so many days in almost isolation, with no one to talk to but his most hated enemies, it was like a wish being granted.

All the other Kind around him must have felt it too, but they gave no sign of worry. _It will be dealt with,_ was their only response.

Unsatisfied, Ezra had taken off through the colony, following his senses until he found the source of the disturbance. A section of rock ceiling, which the Kind new was being slowly dissolved by a stream of water, had collapsed far sooner than they anticipated. Several members of the colony had been caught under the resulting rock shower, and were now buried alive. To his shock, the bugs around were actually debating whether or not it would be worth it to make a rescue attempt. There seemed to be some more concern over quickly digging a new tunnel to end the block in traffic.

So Ezra had stepped forward to act, and for the first time in a long time he felt almost giddy with happiness. The mind of every bug for one hundred yards radiated delight and gratitude, and it felt so real in his own mind it _made_ him feel it too. And it seemed like the first time in years that he had helped someone without having to risk death or personal misery to do it.

The jubilant bugs had gathered around him, physically fawning over him with their antenna to match the telepathic fawning. It suddenly turned to a gentle pushing, as the swarm of bugs began to eagerly herd him down the corridors

“Woah, whoa hey guys,” Ezra stumbled forward, making no effort to try and resist the bugs. “Whats the rush?”

_You are ready to meet the Kind,_ came the reply.

“I thought I already did,” he laughed back. Still, he joined in the quick walk through the maze of caves. He had given up trying to keep his sense of direction about anything; there was no where he really _needed_ to go anyway, and if there was, he could just ask Kind to guide him. They moved along at a brisk pace, alternating between runs down tunnels and scaling up the sides of vertical shafts. They moved steadily upward, and even though he had not seen daylight for several hour, Ezra somehow knew they were rising above the ground. Their destination must be in one of the tunnels the cut inside the mountain range on the surface.

Gradually the tunnels became taller and wider, the surfaces more smooth and manicured A faint light was somehow spreading through the passageways, and it made Ezra realize that he had switched off his glowrod several hours ago, and had been relying on his other senses without noticing.

Finally, they reached the biggest cavern he had seen yet. Several _Ghost_ s could have been parked down its length end to end, and a few more probably stacked on top of those Its walls were covered in carvings; some clear representation of the Kind, with varying degrees of artistic skill, others a menagerie of strange symbols and patterns that could mean anything to Ezra.

At the far end was another wide entrance. In front of it, two large pits had been dug into the floor on either side of it, and bugs attendants moved gently among the writhing mass inside. As he watched, a bug stepped through the door and handed something squirming in its arms to one of the workers in the pit. A larva.

_The hatchery,_ one of his guides explained. _That is where offworlder treasures are kept, for the pleasure of the Kind._

By now Ezra was beginning to feel that the meaning of _kind_ was sort of fluid in the bugs collective mind, but he had a pretty good guess what it meant this time. The only other feature in the room was a razed slab of flat stone, tucked into an alcove. It didn't actually have a chair, but somehow he knew it could only be one thing, the throne.

Sure enough, what could only have been a queen bug came scuttling out of the far entrance as his party walked closer to that end of the room. She looked pretty much like all the other bugs, only bigger. Two pairs of hind legs supported a bloated, distended abdomen in stead of one. While all the other bugs in attendance went down on all fours when they walked, she did so upright, and her claws and mandibles were stunted and shrunken. On either side, six large bugs followed her, each bearing a kind of staff that was tipped at both ends in wickedly curved and hooked blades. Their thick, tough looking skins came to sharp points in numerous places. They were the tallest bugs he had seen yet, at least six feet when they stopped and stood upright, but they were dwarfed by the queen they guarded.

Climbing up the rock platform, and sitting her body down on top of it, the Queen fixed her gaze on Ezra. _Greetings, joiner of the Kind_.

For the first time, it seemed that this was a voice different from all the other bugs. He couldn't quite tell _what_ was different about it, it just seemed . . . musical, somehow. Just the sound of it was comforting. It reminded him, vaguely, of his mothers voice.

_We are glad to welcome you._

Unsure of the protocol, Ezra made a half bow in respect. “I, um, I am very grateful for it.” Something was wrong. In the back of his mind, a little voice, a very faint sense, seemed to be trying to say something he couldn't hear. It had been there for a while; having grown gradually quieter, but more intense. In spite of all the good fortune that seemed to have suddenly come to him, Ezra felt that somewhere around him was a definite, serious danger; but he couldn't see it! “You people are probably the friendliest beings I have ever met,” he continued, and he was being completely, sincerely honest.

_It is good that such a gentle voice has come to the Kind,_ the Queen answered. _After so many years since any being joined, one such as you will help bring us strength and wisdom. It shall be a long and happy life you know._

It was then that Ezra realized two things. The first, that he had never suggested he wanted to join this hive, these people, permanently. The second, was that he was being given an open chance for a new life.

The Kind was welcoming him to stay with them forever, as much a member of the hive as any one of them. It was the only real option that lay in front of him, every other path seemed to offer isolation, more of the loneliness that he'd been trying to ignore since coming to this world, a life too similar to the one he'd had on Lothal, before Kanan and the others found him.

But that thought brought up something else. A purpose, he had come to this place for a reason. To Ezra's growing surprise, he was finding it hard to remember what it was.

_Forget the distractions of the world_ , the voice of the Kind instructed him. _The only true purpose is to live for the Hive._

Ezra was trying very hard to remember now, chasing the shadow of an idea as he had trouble picking through his own mind. The words of the hive were tripping him, calling his thoughts away from finding the answers, so he tried to tune them out. It was only then that he realized he couldn't! Ezra was losing himself now, not just to the Kind but to panic That voice; he'd let that friendly, innocent voice into his mind with little thought and no protection, and was only now starting to realize that it may have been a huge mistake!

They were speaking to him again, but he couldn't understand it anymore; as he fought the voices became garbled, reverting back to an insectoid chattering. And once again he felt the warning, the signal from the Force like a cold wind on the back of his neck; danger. He'd ignored it when he first entered the hive, and the longer he stayed among them the weaker it had grown. But now he felt the full force of it, like a mighty wind buffeting him from all sides. RESIST. He all ready had a people, an Order. He could not be taken away from his mission, or it might all-

The room had grown dark, as the boundary between it and his minds eye grew weaker, and filled with the deafening chatter of the hive. Now a light pierced it, and the young jedi, suddenly on his knees, saw again the burning weapon in front of him. The evil snarl of the fyrnocks was there again, the defiant screech of the Lothcat answering it, and with a roar like a hyperspace engine the light grew blinding!

And suddenly Ezra was back in the throne room of the hive, down on hands and knees as he took in deep, frantic breaths. All was just as it had been before, except that the voices of the Kind were silent.

A bug had approached him, moving to help him back up, but Ezra bolted to his feet before it could. “Your Highness!” He shouted, fearing that if they had the chance to speak first the voices may get him again. “I . . . I am very grateful for the offer but . . . but the answer is no!”

He wasn't sure what he expected after that; anger, offense, being denied the choice. Instead the insects around him simply seemed confused. He did not hear their thoughts anymore, but could still feel a weaker, general sense that they did not understand his response, as if it were an alien behavior they had not seen before. Stretching out a bit more, now with a firm hold on his own mind against any compulsion, he picked up their thoughts. There was no malice, no desire to harm him. And they wouldn't, he somehow knew the Kind would not hurt a single hair on his head, whether he joined or not. It was just that their nature, the being of their very existence, would eventually destroy him. The body might go on as healthy as any member of the colony, but Ezra Bridger would be dead.

_Are you certain of this,_ the queen probed him, cocking her head in curiosity

“YES,” he said, perhaps a little to harshly. “I am very, very certain!”

_It may take time,_ she replied, as if his joining were inevitable regardless of what he wanted. _You are still welcome to share the Hive, whatever you decide._

“Can I leave,” he pressed. “Leave the colony?”

_At anytime, you are free to go as you choose,_ she said simply, and he actually believed that was the truth. _And likewise return at anytime._

“Thank you, for um majesty. I will have to think about it.” Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, walking as fast as he could without launching into a dead sprint. The little crowd dispersed behind him, the bugs going back to their work as the queen dismounted he throne, to return to the hatchery with her guards.

As soon as he was out the door, Ezra turned and stalked down the first hallway he could find. Gently pushing through bug traffic he turned down another, and another, heedless of were he was going until at last he felt far enough away to stop and sit down, back to the wall of another featureless room. Well away from the hives activities he spent what might have been an hour with hands on knees and head in arms as he did nothing but concentrate on the feeling of his own mind, and the current of his thought free from any outside control. At some point he switched to sitting cross legged, letting himself slide into a deep meditation.

He could not join the Kind, that much was clear. He would never find the mission the Force had been calling him to, something it _needed_ him to do. And if there was any chance of ever seeing his home, and his family, ever again, he would never find it while trapped on this planet. He had to stay free, keep focused on finding the path ahead, no matter what he found lurking out here on the edge of the galaxy.

He spent several hours meditating on this, or maybe it was just a few minutes. As he pondered what to do next, Ezra became aware that a bug was coming toward him. It stopped just three feet away, and with no preamble at all informed him, _You have been invited to attend the audience._

Ezra looked up at it, suspicion being replaced by a wary curiosity “Audience?”

_Offworlders are arriving,_ it said. _They will meet with the Kind shortly._

 

 

 

**I really need to move this story along. I'm already mentally planning out far ahead, and I haven't even introduced all the characters yet. But this time I'm going to really try to write more and update quicker!**

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Out of the Gundark nest, into the Rancor pit.**

 

The “audience” was held at the top of one of the cliffs that made up the hive. It was a large cave, half the size of the throne room, with an entire section of wall missing that led to a flat cliff jutting into the open air. A single ship hovered in the air just above it, a vessel roughly the size and length of a CR90 corvette.

Ezra began to walk into the room when his bug guide reached out and blocked him in the doorway. _Please, it would be best if you waited here until the business is concluded._

“What, do you guys not want me to see your visitors? But that's why you invited me!” Ezra looked over the assembly of bugs arranging themselves around another throne like slab occupied by their queen, trying to get some reading on their universally expressionless faces. “Or is it the other way around?”

_There is conflict in the worlds beyond Karassi,_ it told him. _More an more, the Murelani speak of wars and strangers when they come to us with their offerings. For aliens as distant as you to appear now, it may trouble them._

Ezra was Starting to grow frustrated with the Kind's tendency to explain the details of whatever was happening. In the admittedly short time he had spent with them they tended to give out only the minimum explanation and then expect him to understand what it meant. Were they simply not used to communicating with people who didn't know their thoughts, or was it some kind of intentional deception.

Trying to push was very tempting; Ezra never liked being in the dark about something! But he had only just escaped the gundark's nest after rushing into a meeting with one brand new species, and he didn't know anything about these _Murelani_. So the jedi in him won out, and he agreed to stand in the shadow of the passageway, watching the whole thing from a distance.

As an old habit Ezra ran a critical eye over the craft; taking note of its weapons and defenses, but also if it looked like the product of anything culture he had seen before. A bulky rear section housed three powerful looking thruster engines, that could probably put on some real speed. Four mid-sized double-barrel laser turrets had obviously been on the ship since its construction, two each on the underside and topside; and three slightly smaller single turrets had been added in along either of its flanks. The different color of the steel and still visible markings of tool-work made it obvious that whoever owned the ship had felt the need to upgrade its weapons fairly recently.

From the wide engine block the fuselage jutted forward with thick sides that slanted to smaller decks above and below, and it ending at the front in a sort of rounded arrow head. Someone like Thrawn might have been able to tell something about the culture based on the design, but Ezra didn't have much of a talent for that. He did think their seemed to be something kind of elegant about the look of it, definitely meant to be aesthetically pleasing. The dark gray and red plates had the smooth surface and spotless seams that back home were associated with the wealthy and powerful. Whatever it was used for now, he doubted it had been designed for combat.

After the bugs situated themselves there was been a pregnant pause, stretching on for several seconds until a batch opened up from the side of the ship and a rampway rolled out to descend down, and the alien visitors came down on it.

Ezra wasn't sure what bizarre creatures to expect out here in wild space, and was mildly surprised to see that, as aliens went, the Murelani were not particularly unusual. Definitely mammals; they were five feet tall, and had a basic bipedal form that was entirely covered in short fur. There was something unique about their short snouted faces; they looked like a little rodent, with some thing like feline or maybe ursine thrown in. Each had a pair of long pointed ears that rose almost straight up above their foreheads, and somehow Ezra was a little surprised that they had no tails.

The lead alien seemed to be older, if these people were anything like other mammals. A half ring of straight, neatly trimmed gray fur grew out from just behind either ear and down around the throat below its protruding chin, in a mane that appeared very beard-like. The rest of its fur that Ezra could see looked to be well into turning gray, with just a few traces of a dull reddish-brown. It wore a long closed coat that went almost down to its knees, black with many red trims, wrapped by a belt of silverish metal links that matched a smaller necklace it wore.

His (Ezra got the distinct impression alien was a male) two companions were obviously guards. Both wore identical body suits of black and bits of dark red; with dull gray armor covering their chests, forearms and shins. They also had small round helmets, with slits that allowed their large ears to poke out. Both carried short staffs at their sides, shouldered in the crook of the right arm. The gleaming metal could not have been a blade, but reminded Ezra of the vicious force pikes imperial forces sometimes used. All three of them had ants that ended above the ankle and went barefoot. Well, bare-pawed might be more accurate.

No sooner had they descended the ramp then a fourth Murelani joined them, one which appeared to be a juvenile. A little more than three and a half feet, it scampered eagerly to catch up to the delegation, falling into step between the leader and his guards. The two following gave no change in their steely, but not hostile expressions. The elder gave just the smallest glance back, and a partial eye-role, but didn't say anything.

If Ezra was reading things right, everyone in the delegation except the youngling seemed nervous. As cautiously as possible, he stretched his mind out to try and probe them, hoping this was not another race with dangerous mental abilities. They all felt normal enough, and were definitely apprehensive. The leader was keeping his mind particularly guarded; but that was something Ezra often found with leaders, who needed to keep their emotions in check regularly. This probably wasn't the first time they these people had visited the Kind, and the young jedi guessed they were well aware that the seemingly friendly insects could be an unintentional danger.

The young one didn't seem to have any worries, looking all around him in eager fascination. Ezra crouched a little further down when the child's gaze seemed to sweep right over him more than once, but there was probably no way he could be seen within the shadow of the passageway.

When they were about ten feet from the throne the lead alien made a small motion with his hand and the three behind him stopped where they were. At six feet he stopped as well, and bowing a little with arms stuck out slightly, low on either side, open palms facing toward the Queen. Holding this position he began to speak, with a surprisingly deep voice that projected well withing the room; overshadowing the faint wailing of wind at the cliffs opening and the steady hum of the ships repulsors. The language was unrecognizable to Ezra, and involved a lot of stretched out “aa” sounds and emphasis on vowels. He had no idea what was being said, but the delivery seemed very smooth and deliberate. Either the alien made this speech often, or he was just a very competent speaker in general. If he was a leader among his people, then probably both.

It was only a short speech before the being straightened again and looked expectantly at the Queen. She replied, her rarely used mandibles struggling slightly to create vocal sounds not native to the Kind. It also didn't sound like the same language the Murelani had used; but based on his focused expression and occasional nods it was one he understood.

The not knowing was getting too Ezra, impatience and curiosity fraying nerves already on edge due to his surroundings. Deciding it was worth the risk, the jedi reached out to the collective mind of the Kind, though much more carefully than he had before. It seemed to be the way among the bugs that what one knew they all knew, so if the Queen could understand the visitors. . .

_Bring forth your offer_ , Ezra heard in the back of his mind, just before she finished speaking. The ambassador or chief or whatever he was turned toward his ship and motioned someone towards him. While the Kind were still as physically expressionless as ever, Ezra felt a clear sense of anticipation among them; and he could hear something that almost sounded like singing from some far off voice. Two more Murelani came down the ramp, each carrying one end of a round leather case, about the length of a fully extended Lasat bo-rifle. When they reached there leader he nodded, and they undid one end of the case and pulled something out.

When the bugs had told him that the offworlders paid in “treasure” for whatever it is they bought, Ezra had assumed they meant treasure in the conventional sense of something like gold or jewels. He had been mildly confused about the point of that, since he couldn't imagine the what the Kind used it for with their extremely primitive lifestyle. Now he realized he had the wrong idea.

The two aliens held up a tapestry, one of the most beautiful works of art Ezra had ever seen. In a patchwork of threads so colorful they were just short of dazzling it depicted a sun setting, or rising, over a foaming ocean. Set against a beautiful background of cobalt, aquamarine, rosy and gold, were depictions of some kind of archaic ships, with tiny Murelani manning their long oars and battened sails. Even from the distance, he could tell the figures were so finely detailed that they practically looked like copied images.

“Hand made by our artisans,” while his ears still didn't understand the ambassadors voice, he could hear it in his mind as something understandable now. The alien was gesturing to the tapestry with one hand. “Crafted for beauty in all the senses.

That's when Ezra noticed a faint smell was now in the room, something that seemed like a bouquet of many different scents rolled together. It wasn't a bad smell, but a bit too unusual to be enjoyable. If it came from the tapestry, it must be very strong up close.

Several bugs stepped forward from the Queen's entourage and scuttled up to the masterpiece. They began furiously waving their antenna over the offering, doing something to the air between tasting and petting. The smell that to a human nose seemed unusual turned out to be absolutely lovely to the Kind, and Ezra got the feeling it appealed to other senses most beings didn't have. A ripple of euphoria passed through the collective minds all around, and he hastily weakened his connection to keep the temptation of it from drawing him back in. He could still hear the singing though, and it seemed to be getting louder.

_We accept_ , the queen replied, her voice still expressionless as ever. The crewmen holding the tapestry, who had been looking decidedly uncomfortable as the gesticulating bugs pressed in close, handed it off to them with evident relief.

_Make room please._

Ezra, who had been leaning out farther into the doorway to get a better view, spun around to finally notice a group of bugs had been coming up behind him while he was distracted. More than a dozen were trudging toward him, carrying a large crystal with surprising ease through the narrow passage. As soon as he laid eyes on it the etheric singing grew louder, and to his amazement the young jedi realized what it was.

A kyber crystal.

Bright orange, it was an irregular oblong shape almost as big as the one Saw Gerrera had destroyed in his wild quest to hunt down the Empire's secrets. Ezra squeezed against the tunnel wall to make room as they passed, and on a curious impulse he reached out and touched it. He instantly snapped his hand back as he heard something; a voice so faint he almost wasn't sure he heard it.

_They Come!_

None of the bugs seemed to notice, and didn't pay him any mind.

As soon as the crystal was brought into the room the Murelani ambassador instructed them to take it to the ship; though they started to move before instructed, so Ezra figure this was a pretty familiar routine. With a buzz of repulsors the craft changed position slightly, moving to hover above the wide base of the cliff as a section of its underside came open and a cargo lift dropped down. The bugs who had excepted the offering scuttled passed him as they carried it down into the Hive. From what he had learned earlier, it would hang in the Queen's hatchery for her constant viewing. And what she could see, they all could see.

Ezra's attention was brought back to the audience when the Murelani ambassador and the Queen began speaking again. He stretched his senses out once more and and listened in through the hive mind.

_Once again the craftsmanship of the Murelani does your people credit, Jaan-taik Kaarep,_ the Queen began.

“Most kind of you to say, your highness,” Jaan-taik Kaarep, or whatever his name was, excepted the compliment with another slight bow. “Having concluded the business between myself and your eminence, let me once again bring greetings from my liege the Jaan-Maia, and affirmations of the amity she has, and all of our people have, for the Hive of Karassi.”

This all sounded sincere to Ezra, if just a little rehearsed.

_And it is gratefully excepted,_ the Queen replied. _Know that, as always, your people are welcome in our skies, as well as to the hospitality of the Hive, as sure as its own Kind are._

“And for that we are most honored.” There was just a bit of dryness to the ambassadors tone, and the kind of forced look of his polite smile hinted that he was well aware of just how dangerous that reception would be.

“But I am afraid it is not hospitality that my people have need of.” The he plowed on. “In recent years, a shadow has begun to fall across our worlds, and those of our honorable neighbors. I know that even here, on your sanctuary of Karassi, you know of the Vahetey. And you know also the name many now use for them, the blooddrinkers.”

_You fear them._ It wasn't really a question. _They have grown strong and proud, and within a short span of years have spread to master the stars around them. Now your people fear they are coming in the way of conquerors._

“You know that we Murelani have on ill-will toward their people.” Kaarep insisted. “And you know well that, though we have at times failed, we strive to extend the open hand of friendship to all beings. And we do not begrudge the Vahetey their desire to master the stars, as so many have before, or dispute their spread to the unclaimed worlds surrounding their own. But having met with the edge of other civilizations, they seem to have no inclination to stop their expansion. It is known they continue to build their fleets, well past any realistic need in these times. It is also known that they more and more probe into the territory of their neighbors, even as their own in jealously closed to all outsiders. Most troubling is that as a result of this provocation an open war has arisen between them and the Tirekk peoples, the first significant conflict the worlds of the Shore have seen in more than a generation. The news is irregular, and poor in detail; but we have reports that the Vahetey are advancing through Tirekk space with disturbing speed, and may soon even threaten their Spawnworld.”

_There has never been any love lost between you and the Tirekk,_ the Queen interjected. _And there have been times when your people attempted to accomplish the same assault_

“That . . is true,” the ambassadors ears drooped as his expression became marginally sheepish. “But such times are past. What is before us now is a new and unknown threat. The Vahetey have no part in any long established animosities, but neither do they come bearing the hand of friendship. We do not know yet that conflict is inevitable, but if their expansion continuous it cannot go uncontested. And should a contest be necessary, the surest response would be a united one, supported by all the powers in the Shore.

_And your Jaan-Maia calls for such a collaboration?_

“Not openly . . . yet.” The ambassadors ears drooped somewhat lower now. “Even among our people word travels slowly, and many on the homeworld, farther removed from the threat, do not give it credence. But her majesty's government is waking to the crisis, and it will be soon that the Murelani gather their strength too, should it be needed.

_And what is it you desire of the Kind?_ The Queen asked.

“We would ask that the Kind stand with us, should an alliance be formed.” He ears straitened now, and spoke with deadly seriousness. “Should the Vahetey ever drive deep enough into space to threaten our worlds, they would be in a position to assault Karassi itself as well. And your Hive, its power and ability known throughout the Shore, would be too great a danger for them to leave at their backs. I would ask that you stand with us now, so as to spare your people later!”

The Queen clacked he mandibles several times, head cocked as she gazed at him with the same neutral expression the bugs all used. Finally, she replied. _The Kind have weathered many storms in our time, some to which even threats such as the Vahetey pale. And I do not believe that the blooddrinkers, however ambitious, could find reason to assault our sanctuary, if we but keep to our way of neutrality. For the moment, we will have no part in any alliance._

Kaarep went just a beat without responding, sighing before bowing with perfect politeness. “I would not dispute a peoples decision on their own fate, or wish to bring any into conflict through deception. And I pray that our deeper fears may prove to be mistaken.” He looked back up; with a tone no longer serious, but it was businesslike, and almost casual. “I ask only that your majesty consider what I have said.” He raised one hand with a twitch of fingers, as if something had just occurred to him. “With permission, should this threat prove to be as we fear, it may be to the benefit of the Hive to have a more regular source of information in the galaxy. Might a small diplomatic envoy be arranged, so you may observe how the situation develops.” His tone was casual, but Ezra noticed something tense about his stance, and the twitch of his ears. It was a look that seemed to be of desperation.

The Queen clacked her mandibles once, nodding. _It may be useful yes, and I will grant a small delegation. Purely as observers though._ With no other word or signal, three bugs scuttled from her left side to stand before the ambassador, gazing at him expectantly. As was apparently the Hive's way, they were never _asked_ to go, they went on command. None of them looked like they were considering how dangerous it might be. But, if a few bugs never made it back, what difference would it make to the Hive.

Jaan-taik Kaarep smiled, all happiness and gratitude. “My thanks your majesty.” He bowed more deeply. “I believe that concludes our business here, and with your permission, I will depart.”

_Not yet,_ the Queen replied.

He looked up, his face only just masking surprise and wariness. “Is . . there anything more, your grace?”

_The Kind have had other, recent visitors_ , she explained. _We do not know if their arrival will play a part in the events to come, but felt it would be courteous to inform you._ With both left arms, she beckoned to Ezra.

Sheepishly, feeling just a little guilty for having listened in on the entire conversation, he stepped out into view, walking toward the assembly. He stopped a dozen paces from the ambassador, and gave a small wave. “Um, hello.”

He wasn't sure what to say, and it was brought up short by the surprisingly strong reaction he got. Both guards stood ramrod straight and flattened their ears back shifting their sticks from shoulder to hands, as if excepting a fight. The young alien starred at him with obvious fascination, mouth open slightly as he blinked in astonishment. The ambassador stood completely still, except for the ears that drooped as the carefully neutral face slipped away; replaced with something that was mostly surprise, but also held fear.

“My names Ezra Bridger,” he realized that they probably couldn't understand him, as they were unconnected to the Hivemind. Still, that was the only thing he could think to say. “It's, uh, nice to meet you.

The elder alien stared at him for a long moment; visibly recovering as his expression changed to a thoughtful gaze that seemed to hold a high degree of suspicion. Finally, he raised one hand toward the jedi, open palm out. When he spoke, Ezra was astonished to realize he didn't need the Hive to understand it, as the alien tried to wrap his lips around a word not found in his own language.

“Iimp-eire-aal.”

 

**Trying to make good on my promise to start updating sooner, I may start using smaller chapters. They will probably vary in size a lot. I really need to move this story along.**

**Also, meant to say this last time, I looked up the method for how hyperspace routes are explored and discovered in the star wars cannon, and I never really got a straight answer. So I just made up something that sounded like it would work.**

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer I own nothing. Using a lot of incorrect spellings to show a character who doesn't have a lot of practice speaking basic. It won't last long, and hopefully will not be too annoying.**

 

Captain Pellaeon had based his career in the imperial fleet on the idea that one particular factor was more important to the running of an exemplary ship than any other, and indeed was the foundation on which all others were built. Discipline.

When the alien ship appeared on sensors, the captain took some pride in how little a reaction it produced. The crew had already been severely taxed by the experience of the last week; but in spite of the unprecedented circumstances, they had managed to resurrect their ship with a speed and skill that would have rivaled most orbital shipyard units. Far from snapping, in the face of this newest potential crisis they stood by their stations diligently. There was anxiety of course, fear even, but each crewmen forced it down, put on a grim face, and trusted in their training, and each other, to see them through.

And trusted in their officers most of all.

“Descend back toward the surface,” Thrawn immediately instructed the bridge crew, the first to respond as usual. “Heading twenty seven degrees starboard. With our diverging trajectories we should have a good chance of getting the curve of the planet between us and them.” He glanced down at his datapad, then continued. “Proceed on minimal power output.”

“Emperor's bones!” Commander Faro swore under her breath. “Does he think we're going to hide a _star destroyer_?”

Pellaeon ignored her, calling toward the com station. “Signal all the recon TIEs; on secure, tight wave signals only. They are to land at the nearest available area and power down! They are not to reply.

“Poor bastards,” Faro shook her head, her sense of decorum dropping as her anxiety rose. “Hope they're all good scouts; land in the wrong spot and they might get swarmed by murderous natives.”

“It is unlikely that whoever is on that ship is _native_ to this planet,” Thrawn approached them. “The amount of infrastructure needed to sustain a space-faring race would simply not have been able to evade our sensors They are more likely colonizers or outcasts, or perhaps here to harvest resources.”

“They could be scouts,” Pellaeon pointed out. “And if they are surveying the planet, for whatever reason, they will likely comb over every inch of it. I would say we have no choice but to establish contact.”

“They are not scouts,” the admiral shook his head, examining the sensor readings being fed to his personal datapad. “They came out of hyperspace very close to the planet itself, practically in the upper atmosphere. Such a maneuver would of course be highly dangerous in an unexplored system, and suggests they are very familiar with this world.”

“Or very stupid.” Faro countered. “Or unskilled. Or both.”

“Their behavior reveals more,” Thrawn held out the pad so they could see the digital representation of the strange ships flight. “From the uniform straightness of their course, and consistent speed, it is clear they have a specific destination already in mind. Should they maintain their heading, it seems they will make landing at one end of a small mountainous formation to the southwest.”

Pellaeon felt a chill start somewhere around his shoulder blades “That wouldn't be the same range we believe the jedi ran too after his escape?

“The very same,” as usual, Thrawn did not appear at all troubled. “Assuming he did not change course after leaving the range of our sensors, which would have been the most logical move.

Pellaeon didn't think the jedi had as great an appreciation for logic as the admiral did. “Could he have possibly called for help? All the way out here?”

“If that is true, we've probably been dragged right into a trap,” Faro bit out. “And he played us for fools the whole time.”

“I do not see how it could be possible that commander Bridger has any friends out here,” Thrawn insisted. “We shall have to remain unnoticed while we analyze the situation further”

He turned back to the crewpit. “Helm, I believe there is a sand storm rolling in to our port side?” With large plains of featureless dunes, the planet they were on produced such storms relatively frequently. Exterior repairs had been forced to delay several times in the past few days as a result.

“Yes sir,” a crewmen responded. “About a thousand meters below us, two thousand ahead.”

“Take us into it,” the admiral ordered. “Put the ship in cruise at seventy five meters from the planets surface, check our speed and begin moving parallel to the course of the storm. Our repulsors should stir up an even larger cloud of sand so close to the desert floor, and in this landscape we have no danger of colliding with any natural features. The storm should mask us from all but the must determined sensors quite nicely.”

Pellaeon's eyebrows rose as he examined the censor data on the storm, mentally comparing it to the ships dimensions It might work. That was a ludicrously close distance to the surface for a vessel this size, but the power of the ships engines should be able to compensate for the push of the winds easily and keep them on a straight course.

“Position us near the front of the storm,” Thrawn ordered. “We will want to have as much of it at our backs as possible, for the best chance that the winds will blow over any track our repulsors leave in the sand.”

“I believe all this caution may be a bit of an overreaction sir,” Faro cut in as she examined the data. “That ship is no bigger than a light cruiser, I doubt it would pose any serious threat.”

“Nonetheless, I believe a careful examination would be prudent before making contact,” the admiral insisted. “We have no idea what forces might be ready to come to that ships aid if a conflict occurs. We would certainly win that battle, but might lose the next one.” He turned to Pellaeon. “Notify commander Sesden that shields and weapons systems just became top priority on the repairs list, and tell him I want an up-to-date report on their status immediately.” He turned back to the crewpit. “Did we get a good reading on their exit from hyperspace?”

“Yes sir,” Lieutenant Lomar replied. “We have the exact coordinates, and a clear reading on their trajectory It will give us a good point of reference when we start scanning for hyperlanes.”

“Excellent,” Thrawn turned back to his officers. “If we do not make contact, at the very least we now have a clear path for getting out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Ezra hesitated at the boarding hatch after the elder Murelani stepped through it, wondering if coming aboard a ship of people he had just met was another bad idea. His presence had definitely stirred something in the ambassador, or whatever he was. The others too, the guards coming up the ramp behind him shifted the grip on their force pikes just slightly, as if getting ready for him to make trouble He could sense that they all had a tension on their minds; and it was definitely fear. But their was no anger, no resentment at his presence. Whatever contact these people had had with the Empire, they didn't seem to believe he was already an enemy. Just that he _could_ be one.

The alien in front looked back at him and was about to say something, but before he could Ezra started forward, entering the ship with his best sabacc face on.

The interior was a dull blue, with black flooring. The first room was a simple square, probably the same kind of airlock chamber you'd see on any good sized ship. The hallway beyond was more oval shaped, and decorated: the black floor was inlaid with a dark blue pattern, and the walls on either side had rows of what looked like alien water plants painted against the blue. The ceiling was a bit lower than humans were used to, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

Ezra reached out cautiously, tuning out the thoughts of the Kind that were still close enough to be a constant low chatter. He could sense more than seventy _individual_ minds around him, and an eerie melodious hum. The great kyber crystal was already lying in the ship's cargo bay, as if patiently waiting for someone to come speak to it. There was another voice too, farther back amid the engines. A second crystal, much smaller than the first, but pulsing with energy as it took in the power generators output and released it three-fold.

“Did you really live with the Kind?”

Ezra opened his eyes to notice that the young Murelani had caught up to him, and the little guy stared up with wide, fascinated eyes.

“Uh, yah. But only for less than a day.”

“Did they try to steal your mind?” The little alien sounded genuinely curious. “Not everyone back home believes the stories; but uncle said that if people aren't careful the hive's voice will start to drown out their own thoughts.”

“Well, uh, that almost happened.” Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. He was itching to start asking questions of his own (like 'where did you learn basic'), but it felt right to wait until whatever it was this Kaarep guy wanted to show him.

“Do the Kind really eat each other?” the youngling persisted. “They say there shouldn't be enough food in those caves to support such a big colony, did you see-”

“Talmak!” The older alien barked as he stopped next to a set of double doors. The younger one blinked sheepishly, ears drooping slightly as he nodded apologetically and scampered off down the hall. Kaarep opened the doors with the press of a button and stepped in, motioning Ezra to follow as the guards brought up the rear.

Ezra thought it was safe to assume it was a conference room; the only features were a ring of cushioned chairs arranged in a wide circle around what looked like a holoprojector built into the floor, with a little desk in front of one. Kaarep went behind it, motioning for Ezra to sit. The chairs were just a little too low and short-backed to be comfortable for humans, but he didn't want to offend. Especially not while the guards were still radiating suspicion and fingering their force staffs.

Kaarep flipped a switch behind his desk, and with a hesitant buzz the holoprojector came to life. The image was just a blur of static, more green tinted than the blue he was used to, and the Murelani went through a rack of small datacards behind his desk before selecting one, and plugging it in.

The hologram blurred a little more in the now dimming light, and then quickly organized itself. It came together in the image of a male human, tall and broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair and a bushy beard, both streaked with gray.

There was no mistaking his clothed for anything other than an Imperial uniform, though it was the irregular kind you only saw in high ranking officials. He wore a typical officers suit, but shaded in an unusual dark blue, with a cape cloaked over his shoulders. He wore the twelve blue and red bars of an admiral, or at least the equivalent of one.

“Greetings,” the recording began. “I am Director Semms Boaz; and as commandant of the Outbound Expeditionary Fleet, I bring you greetings from the Galactic Empire.” The man had a thick core worlds accent. As he spoke, the hexagonal imperial symbol appeared in the background.

“The Empire, establish by the unanimous declaration of the former Republic Senate, reigns over the galaxies vast inner reaches of civilized space, from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim.” The image scene changed again, and Ezra grimaced at the familiar face it became. Palpatine, in the same friendly and sympathetic persona that had just recently tested Ezra on Lothal. “Under the wise leadership of our benevolent ruler, Emperor Palpatine, our civilization was brought out of a time of war and chaos, and into a new order of peace and prosperity. Now, with the wealth of countless worlds brought together by a great and orderly system, the Empire has endeavored to resume the long march of civilization, which was abandoned in the waning years of the Republic.” The image changed again, showing three star destroyers, hovering over a green and blue planet. “This mighty fleet represents the beginning of a new age of exploration, as we have committed to bringing the benefits of order and civilization to every corner of the galaxy.”

There seemed to be more but Kaarep set the image back to the imperial director, then paused it. He pointed at it deliberately; fixing Ezra with an accusatory look, and asking in broken and heavily accented basic. “Thiis _not_ your peaople?”

“No,” Ezra raised his hands in a sort of pleading way, trying to think of how best to explain. “I mean, we're the same species, human, but there are a lot of humans in the galaxy, we're not all the same. I'm not loyal to the Empire, in fact I've spent the last several years fighting against it.”

The aliens gaze wasn't hostile, but it was still an intensity in how he studied Ezra's face, probably trying to decide whether or not to believe him. “And thaey not coume wiith yu?

“Well,” Ezra rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of a way he could explain this without giving the impression that he had brought the imperials back. Which he had. “Yes actually there's another star destroyer here. It, uh, it brought me on it.”

Kaarep's ear shot up, and he pulled a palm sized silver disk out of his coat, speaking into quickly. He laid it down on the table, before rounding on Ezra.

“Whii,” he said, hardly blinking as he met the young jedi's gaze. “Whii haave thaey reaturned?”

“We got, um lost.” Ezra decided to try and phrase the truth in an innocent way. “They made a blind jump into hyperspace, and then landed on this planet to repair. They didn't come here on purpose, they didn't even know whats out here!”

The Murelani's eares twitched in frustration, and he was silent for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. “How faar,” he said next. “How clousier iis iimpiereaal spaace?”

“Uum,” Ezra racked his brain, trying furiously to remember if there had been any major explorations on this side of the outer rim. He hadn't heard of any. “There hasn't been an expansion recently, so they shouldn't be any closer.”

Kaarep's wide eyes just slightly betrayed his disbelief. “Thaey saay iit ah thousaand liightyars, aat laist.” He gestured to the frozen image. “How thaey come iin oune juamp?”

“It was a _big_ malfunction,” Ezra tried to assure him, eager to change the subject. “And no ones even heard of this “Outbound Fleet” thing. How long ago was it?”

For a moment he thought Kaarep wasn't going to tell him, he could almost see the scales weighing in the aliens mind. “Twielve yars,” he finally replied, and it occurred to Ezra that he was probably not using galactic standard, so that wasn't really helpful. “Thaey caime frum thie interior, on aalmost ah striaght paath tou the blaack sie.”

“The black sea?” Ezra raised an eyebrow for clarification.

“The and of thie gaalaixie,” Kaarep said simply.

“Oh.” Back home, people always talked about the edge of the galaxy like it was only a hypothetical place, not somewhere you could actually go to. _This has got to be a record screwup, even for me!_ “Did the imperials ever, you know, reach it?”

“Ii dou not knaw,” Kaarep sighed. “Thaey kept on their course, aand went paast our bourders. We knaw som of the biings iin thaat reigion, but not aall the waa to the blaack sie.” He rubbed above his eyebrows. “We doun't evin knaw how maany thaey aar.”

“They never came _back_?”

The alien shook his head, looking grim. “No.”

Ezra felt a shiver slide down his spine, and it seemed to actually run down his middle rather than back. A premonition, and it wasn't of anything good.

“So, you have no idea what happened to them?”

“No one knaws,” Kaarep replied quietly, and he paused a second before adding. “But thie Vahetey were raiching thie staars aabout thaat tiime.”

_That's probably just his paranoia_ , Ezra told himself. _He's already suspiscious of those people, whoever they are. It's not like some new alien species could beat three star destroyers._

He hoped.

“Did you actually meet the imperials?” Ezra didn't want to pause their talk, the alien might think of inconvenient questions.

Kaarep nodded, grimacing. “When thaey ciircled Talaktalm, our hoame world, thie Jaan-Maia hosted theam iin her greit haall. Ii was aat thie diinner. Wie hoped to maake ah friiendly relaation beetween us.” He sighed, rubbing above his eyes again. “Ii do not knaw whaat humaans haave for . . . deicoroum, but thie eveniing waas . . . not prouductiive.”

With your typical xenophobic imperial officers, meeting a new alien race for the first time? Ezra could easily imagine.

“So, did they leave anything behind?” Aside from pick pocketing, subtlety had never been his strong-suit. “Like, I don't know, a map?”

“Nothiing,” Kaarep shook his head. “Some were vary eaager to taalk of thie greaatness of theiir empiire, but thie diirector reiigned them iin; he diidn't seam to waant us to knaw aanythiing iimportaant aabout iit. Ii learned more aabout thie sculptied aart of some plaace caalled 'Basstiion', thaan aany iinformaation thaat could help mie reach thie Empiire. Aall they left waas thiis recordiing,” he pointed to it. “Aand iinstrooctions on your laanguaage of basiic, thaat we miight _be prepared to join the Empiire_.” He smiled, somewhat ironically. “Some maade aa point to leaarn, but wie haave haad liittle reason to keep up the praactiice.”

“Lucky me,” Ezra was starting to think he might be better of taking the Hive up on their offer.

The silver disk on Kaarep's desk chirped, and he turned away to pick it up. He stared at it for several moments. Ezra could hear someone talking through it in the Murelani language, but had no idea what was being said.

He could tell it wasn't good. Kaarep's feelings, which were still very guarded, fell back beneath a deeper cloud of suspicion. He gave Ezra a look he recognized; having learned it first from street deputies on Lothal, and latter from imperial officers. _I think your lying to me, I just don't know why yet._ “Come wiith mie.” He strode out of the room, not giving the jedi a chance to object.

They headed forward, down a long straight hallway that went all the way to the bridge. The large triangular room had all the features one would expect on any ships control room. A large window stretched across the upper bow, in front of a pilots and copilots chair, one occupied with a crewman who appeared to be running through checks. More were milling around stations spread out around the room. A female Murelani, with silver bar epaulets on her shoulders and around her waist, rose from a seat a little behind the pilots' and walked over to greet Kaarep. He had immediately turned to approach a station in the left corner, and Ezra followed, trying to ignore the stares of the crew and the general buzz of anxiety.

Kaarep had a hurried conversation with a crewman seated at a screen of virtual lines in patterns of a topographic l;landscape, which Ezra figured was the surface of the planet around them. The talk broke off abruptly when the Murelani rounded on him. “Whiere waas thie iimperiaal staar destroyer?”

“It's, uh, northeast of here,” Ezra estimated the distance in his head. “Probably fifty klicks at least.” Hopefully the lessons in basic had included galactic standard measurements.

Kaarep gazed at him severely, blinking once. “No iit iisn't.”

Ezra's gaze snapped from where it had been traveling around the bridge and locked on the display, conspicuously absent anything star destroyer shaped. “But it was, it was right there in the midle of the sand dunes!” Ezra had been sure they'd had no chance of getting off the ground for another week at least; this was the _Empire_ for Force sake! _No it's Thrawn; on his personal flagship, full of his handpicked crew. “_ They can't have left the system yet, they have no idea where to go, you coul-,” Ezra cut himself short, remembering this wasn't another Alliance team he was talking to. “Actually, if the imperials have their ship working again, your best bet is to run!”

“Unliike you, wie haave no confliict wiith thie empiire,” Kaarep responded. “I siimpaathiize wiith you Ezraa Briidger, but iit maay bie best for mii people to pursue opan contaact befor-”

The crewman at the sensor console shot up in his chair, shouting as he pointed to the screen. Kaarep and the captain turned to face it, and Ezra felt a wave of emotion wash over the bridge crew. It was fear.

“What is it,” he peered at the new blips that had appeared on the censores, from four ships that had just dropped out of hyperspace.

“Compaany,” Kaarep took a step back, ears falling backward eyes hardened.

Ezra hoped he might be miss-interpreting this. “Your people?”

The alien shook his head. “The Vahetey,” he replied flatly. “The blooddrinkers.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Time to see if reading all that military fiction paid off.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 

“They are heading straight for us,” Thrawn declared, drawing the attention of the entire crew-pit

Three ships had dropped out of hyperspace over the planet, little more than an hour after the first alien vessel arrived. They had begun hurtling toward the surface, on a path that just so happened to intercept the _Chimaera,_ before one broke off and headed in the same direction as their predecessor.

“Bring the ship to battle stations,” the admiral ordered Captain Pelleaon, switching on his comlink. “Commander Bas, the entire fighter wing is to board their ships immediately and prep for combat. Be ready to launch on my signal.”

“It's not possible,” Lieutenant Lomar spoke over the battle-stations alarm as he skimmed through the readings of his sensor console. “We have a wall of flying sand on every side. The ship should be all but invisible to sensors at any distance farther than a kilometer! It's only because we made so many upgrades for long-range scanning that we're able to see _them_.”

“But, they're definitely coming at us.” Commander Faro insisted. “Unless their attracted to sand storms. Are you sure we don't have any signals outgoing?”

“Check the com relay between us and the scouts.” Pelleaon suggested, eyeing the display. “If the feed is not cleanly broken someone may still be transmitting.”

“We're quiet on all channels.” Lomar insisted. “No one's transmitting com traffic; and we've silenced every routine signal built into the system!”

“What about the special frequencies I gave you,” the admiral interjected. “Are we still transmitting a distress signal through them?”

“Um, yes sir,” Lomar typed furiously on his console. “The, um, the usual list overlooked them. But as you know, they're on such a rare sub-frequency that no one could detect them unless they knew the-”

“Shut them down,” Thrawn was already wheeling to climb the steps to the officers deck, Pelleaon and Faro following behind. “Helm, alter course twenty-five degrees port and take us off our previous trajectory, while staying within the storm.”

“Admiral,” Pelleaon tried to keep the skepticism at a respectful level. “Is it really likely that anyone out here could have detected the most secure signals the Imperial fleet has?”

“Or even remotely possible,” Faro mentioned?

“Under the circumstances,” Thrawn turned to cut off any further comments. “It is the most logical explanation. How else could they have known of our presence when they set a course for this system?”

“Sir,” Pelleaon pressed. “Surely they came following the previous shi-”

“Their actions say otherwise,” Thrawn insisted. “Their original course was clearly fixed on _this_ ship, and the other was only noticed after arrival. Whatever relationship there may be between the two groups, the second came here for us.”

In spite of the admiral's logic, Pelleaon thought this was still too unlikely to be credible, and Faro spoke for them both. “Even so, do we nee-”

“See to our combat readiness commander,” the firmness of the admiral's tone was subtle, but unmistakably ended any further conversations. Turning his back on the bizzar display of swirling sand that roiled outside the view port, he strode to the holodisplay at the back of the command deck. “With me captain.”

Faro was professional enough not to sigh too obviously as she threw a quick glare toward Pelleaon. _You try._ With the smallest of nods, he left her to her work and followed the admiral.

Thrawn took up his comlink again, “Commander Bas, designate one of your best pilots to immediately prep a _lambda_ -class shuttle for launch. Commander Faro, ensure our tuborlaser batteries are ready at maximum power.” Putting the com away he switched on the holoprojector, and keyed the display in on the two approaching ships. “Observe captain.”

They were strange craft. Each resembled nothing so much as a metal ball, with a triangle of engine thrusters protruding out of one end. Both identical in size, they were almost as long as an old pelta-class frigate, as far in width and height as they were length. They put up an impressive burst of speed; and though one couldn't be sure when encountering the technology of an alien culture, preliminary scans picked up energy signatures consistent with some high powered weaponry.

Pelleaon had to admit their might be something too the admiral's theory; while their course had been dead on before the sub-frequencies were cut, now they were wavering. Their flight paths shifted lazily, and not in a manner following the _Chimaera_ 's change in direction.

“Now that they no longer have the signal to guide them,” the admiral declared. “They will likely resort to probing the storm. It will be done either with fighters or projectiles; hopefully not the latter, we will never be able to raise shields in this maelstrom.”

The two ships had diverged now, apparently aiming to encircle their prey by flying on eother side of the general area it had been.

“Commander,” Thrawn signaled Bas again. “The shuttle will launch immediately, bearing fifty six degrees starboard. In three minutes it will rise through the storm five hundred meters from this ship, breaking cloud cover enough to be noticed. It will then re-submerge and move away at its best speed, rising at random to maintain attention. They are to dodge enemy fire as best they can, but maintain the overall heading.”

The two ships had reached the crest of the storm, with more than half a mile of space between them. The holodisplay flickered violently as it battle interference from the storm; and when the image resettled, more than a dozen smaller craft were poring out of each ship.

“Fighters,” Thrawn declared. “Small, but fast and nimble.”

“Likely lightly armed.” Pelleaon observed with some relief. “And doubtlessly short range.”

The little fighters formed up in a wide line on either side of the storm, and began diving in and out of the whirlwind in a widening search pattern, combing for any sign of the ship they hunted. Pelleaon was mildly impressed by the smooth choreography of their formations, which his practiced eye could see even from the grainy holo image. The pilots were obviously well train.

Five hundred meters to starboard, exactly on time and on target, a _lambda_ shuttle broke through the sandstorm. Its ubiquitous imperial design was recognizable immediately to anyone from civilized space, and for whatever reason it got a definite reaction from the aliens. The nearer squadron of fighters turned hard and began to pursue it, while the farther turned around in a wide arc to follow suit, or possibly aiming to race ahead of it and trap the shuttle between them.

On the edges of the storm, the two rotund cruisers followed suit, unwittingly turning away from the _Chimaera_. “Commander Bas,” Thrawn called again. “Launch your Defender Squadron now, all others are to remain in dock. Use caution when entering the storm. Remain under cover and advance at one quarter speed on a course following the shuttle. Emerge from the storm after three minutes, and engage the fighters if hostilities have already commenced.”

“That should put our fighters in a dangerous position between the unidentified fighters and their cruisers,” Pelleaon observed with concern, even as an idea of the admirals next move might be occurred to him. “Will we be throwing in another factor?”

Thrawn's tendency to nod like a teacher to their student could be annoying when one first met him, but one quickly started to hope for it. “One last inquiry though,” he keyed on his com again. “Shuttle _Manticore_ 1, transmit a standard imperial ID and distress signal, and prepare for evasive maneuvers if necessary.”

The admiral turned from the display and strolled out onto the command deck as the captain followed. “Helm, turn us to bare straight toward the nearer cruiser, and raise us out of this storm in quickest time.” He nodded to Faro. “I trust all personnel and weapons are at full battle readiness commander

“Admiral!” a distressed call came up from the other pit before she could reply. “The unidentified ships have fired on _Manticore_ 1, they began to do so as soon as she transmitted an ID!”

“Very well then,” the Chiss nodded, as if a theory had been confirmed.”Instruct our turbo lasers commander, all batteries are to fire on the closer cruiser on my mark, standard order. They are to aim for the thrusters, and attempt to disable it.”

And then, rather suddenly, the _Chimaera_ came out of the storm. As the command tower poked out the daylight hitting the bridge was almost blinding. Pelleaon blinked rapidly to take in the scene before them. As the main body of the star destroyer rose up from the parting sands, the two unidentified (enemy now) cruisers reacted first. Having already committed to chasing down the shuttle they now cruisers slowed drastically, coming around in a tight turn that seemed far to quick for the speed they had been going. Beyond them the forty odd fighters also began to wheel round toward the new threat. So committed was their focus that the already blackened shuttle slipped back into the safety of the storm unnoticed; the upper stabilizer wing sinking into the currents of sand like the dorsal fin of some alien sea creature.

“Fire,” the admiral ordered.

Almost as one, a flurry of pale green lances struck out from the ships flanks, striking out to crackle against the shields of the nearest cruiser. They were almost immediately followed by the _snap_ of roughly the same number of brighter green beams. The _Chimaera_ carried the standard armament of sixty turbolaser batteries up and down its length, accompanied by an equal battery of ion cannons. “Standard order” was a firing procedure, dictated specifically by Thrawn, in which a pair of lasers of both kinds would work in concert with each other. Ion beams would fire first, weakening enemy shields before turbolasers punched through at the same spot for maximum damage. Since the purrgil attack they were still under strength, with roughly sixty percent of either cannons operational, but the effect was still impressive. And no sooner did the target begin to reel from the first salvo then the five heavy batteries, all that were still functional from the original eight surrounding the command tower, roared out their own fire.

The affect was everything they could have hoped for. The enemy cruiser was practically thrown back in the air from the amount of precise firepower hitting it at once. The circular shield surrounding it flared into transparent visibility under the ion cannons and almost simultaneously dimmed and wavered from the turbo lasers; then collapsed entirely under the barrage of heavies. The first salvo was accompanied by another, and the ships batteries broke into a steady stream of punishing independent fire. Large sections on the spheres hull were blown away; and the ship began to fall into a jerky, halted descent, as the thrusters lost their battle with gravity. Thick black smoke billowed from its sides and trailed it down, fed by shipboard fires that would be far more destructive in the oxygen of the planets atmosphere than they ever were in space.

And beyond the cruiser, the squadron of launched TIE Defenders erupted from the storm, now directly behind the enemy fights, and fell upon them like Coruscanti hawk-bats.

Pelleaon was almost expecting they'd receive and offer of surrender then and there, but it never came. Instead, the other cruiser altered its direct charge at them and roared off to the port, climbing steeply into the atmosphere. Its spherical design looked almost absurd in the open air, but powerful thrust engines and what must have been some skilled handling seemed to overcome any shortcoming in regards to speed and agility. Eight lances of fire, with the distinct _snap_ of turbo lasers, erupted from it and began to pepper the star destroyers shields and armor. This attack was followed by perhaps two dozen small projectiles that came streaking toward them, with several bearing the bright magenta trails of proton torpedoes.

“Shields up!” Pelleaon cried. “Reroute all reserve power to shields, now!”

The shower of missiles burst up and down the ship; scorching and bending armor, and piercing the thin spots left by repairs. A fountain of sparks blossomed near the command tower, and Pelleaon realized with dread that the proton torpedoes had put another heavy turbolaser out of commission.

“All batteries track the remaining cruiser and maintain standard order fire, as quickly as recharge permits.” Thrawn appeared undaunted as the _Chimaera_ began slowly twisting in mid air, turning to keep as many guns as possible bearing on the enemy. “They will likely turn back and regroup,” he spoke in a low voice to only Pelleaon and Faro. “I suspect they seek to escape the range of our guns and rejoin with their fighter support for mutual protection.” He gestured to the swarm of fighters kilometers to starboard, where the TIE Defenders seemed to be making short work of their alien foes.

But the enemy cruiser did not turn back. It kept rising, twisting and turning through the air as it tried to evade the _Chimaera_ 's guns. Many shots went wild as the gunners failed to lead the target, but a constant barrage was taking apart the cruisers shields and spreading a series of wounds along its hull. Still, their own laser cannons kept responding, and small projectiles still screamed down at the star destroyer.

Suddenly the admirals confident, almost casual, demeanor was gone; replaced by a cold, expressionless stair. “Incredible,” he said softly.

“Um, sir?” Commander Faro prompted. “They're not doing anything particularly unusual.”

“No, they have not.” Thrawn agreed. “But they are about to.” Turning toward the crew-pit he spoke to the room. “Helm, begin rising at full speed; and pull the ship directly back as you do, we must get out from under them. Ventral batteries, turn your sights on the other cruiser and fire!”

Pelleaon finally noticed two factors the rest of them had overlooked. The first cruiser, though still a smoking wreck, had somehow righted itself and was rising back up to rejoin the fight. And the second, under relentless fire and quickly running out of options, was positioning itself directly above them.

“A desperate gambit,” Thrawn observed. “But the misdirection nearly worked.”

“They were going to ram us,” Pelleaon was not really asking. “The first would hit us low while second was making us look up!”

“And if it failed, the second would be in a good position to try also; descending almost straight down onto us would likely make it fast enough to hit before our defenses could finish it off,” Thrawn elaborated further.

As it now sought to evade the enemy, the star destroyers guns put out an even more desperate rate of fire while its attackers maneuvered to entrap it. The first cruiser coming up from below was taking the fire full on, its already ravaged shields completely wiped out by the first salvo. The ships fiery interior must have been a veritable hell, but as the incoming shots increased its crew did less evasive maneuvering, apparently more resolved to strike their blow with each new wound that was inflicted on them. Pelleaon began to fear that they would actually succeed, when an explosion suddenly burst from its upper starboard, rocking the ship off course. Either internal fires or a lucky shot must have detonated some cache of unlaunched missiles, and it was the final blow that did the ship in. Its forward momentum ran out quickly, and its headlong charge curved into an stone like drop back toward the planet, disappearing into the sand storm.

Pelleaon suddenly realized that the admiral had turned away and was speaking again, this time into his comlink. “Launch on my mark, and be sure the barrage hits the ships forward most point.” He turned to Faro, snapping her concentration back as well. “Commander, have our operable tractor beams powered up and standing by with a lock on that cruiser.”

The last cruiser had also abandoned any kind of strategy for a suicide run. With thrusters roaring and smoke billowing it came hurtling down on them like a fireball from the sky, curving its descent only to keep up with their withdrawal.

“Helm, decrease our motion by half every twenty seconds, and prepare to fire up the forward thrusters on my mark, to follow a heading fifteen degrees starboard at full speed.” All the tension had gone out of Thrawn's stance, and he sounded as casual as if the battle was already over. Pelleaon's own face was probably white with apprehension; but there was no use arguing now, whatever the admiral was planing they were too committed for any other maneuvering “Launch,” he spoke into his comlink again, and the very next second their slowing backtrack halted. For a brief moment they hung still in the air as the alien cruiser closed the final distance, then Thrawn motioned to the helm. “Forward! Tractor beams engage standard repel!”

With a lurch that sent them all stumbling, the ship launched forward and veered hard to starboard. Pelleaon mentally tallied respective trajectories and quickly determined they still wouldn't make it, when a squadron of TIE Defenders came hurtling up from the starboard underside. Agile as a flock of birds, they curved to scream across the Chimaera's prow and fire what must have been their entire compliment of missiles at the cruiser. The constant fire from the star destroyer had reduced it to a burning wreck but could not stop its momentum. Now more then seventy projectiles hit it simultaneously. , and a large section of which ever side was facing them crumbled and fell away in a hundred pieces. At almost the same second, whatever tractor beams were operational still hit the cuiser with the 'standard repel' beam meant to push space debris clrea of the ship.

It was enough. The body of the cruiser fell past the _Chimaera_ 's port side by perhaps only ten meters, with a spray of flames and small debris littering across their hull.

A ragged cheer rose up from the bridge crew, as crewmen leaped to their feet and pounded their consoles in triumph. It took several seconds to realize that they were breaking the well maintained protocol of the bridge, though most were still too carried away to resist. Pelleaon wasn't quick to stifle it, as he indulged in a discrete smile under his mustache. Then his gaze fell from where the alien cruiser had been to the marks along their hull that had been blackened and even pierced by missile attacks.

“Status report,” the cheering quickly subsided at the sound of his raised voice. “I want a complete rundown of battle damage immediately, and an accompanying casualty list.”

“Helm, take us forward and descend toward the fighter engagement,” Thrawn directed attention back to the fighter battle that seemed all but won. “Tractor beam crews, be prepared to lock on remaining hostiles!” He switched on his comlink. “Commander Bas, while avoiding further casualties, try to keep the remaining hostiles contained until we reach you. It is imperative that some be captured alive.”

“Looking for some test subjects to study?” Commander Faro asked.

“It may prove vital,” Thrawn nodded. “It cannot be a coincidence that an alien force in the middle of wild space responded to secret Imperial codes. Such intelligence could only have been gained through prior encounters with Imperial units.”

“Do you really think it possible?” Pelleaon pressed. That kind of conclusion was very tempting to draw, but he did not want to put their hopes on something almost too good to be true. “I've never heard of any exploration project by the Emperor that penetrated so far into uncharted space.”

“The Emperor,” Thrawn replied, “is a great believer in holding hidden cards.”

They were approaching the dogfight at the best speed they could manage, not that there was much left of it. Pelleaon was quite surprised to see that it looked like the entire squadron of TIE Defenders had survived what must have been a savage battle. Many were damaged, and a few already limping back toward the Chimaera's hangar; including one that barely seemed able to stay in the air after losing one of its wing panels

There was only one enemy fighter left, and it had lost one of its own wings and trailed smoke behind itself like some primitive aerocraft. Alone against the entire squadron, the pilot inexplicably seemed determined to close with whatever enemy he could, chasing the nearest TIEs relentlessly and firing wild shots off like a malfunctioning fighter-droid. Having been ordered to take it alive, the TIE's (being joined by the second squadron just launched) more or less circled around it in clumps of two or three. They worked in concert to keep on the enemies tail so he was forced to dodge and turn to often to go any good distance, while it was almost comical to watch them scattered whenever their outnumbered enemy pressed them.

“Commander Bas,” Thrawn hailed the wing commander. “A quick summary of the battle, if you please.”

“I never saw anything like it admiral,” he sounded a little breathless. “That is, they came right at us, and just would not stop. I have seen hothead rookies who might be stupid enough to do that on the first pass, but they would learn their lesson after a few casualties; these pilots did not. And it can not have been simple stupidity, they are obviously trained. We had them by the tail with the first attack right on their six; any squad, even well disciplined, should have been stalled by surprise and panic for at least a short moment. But they were maneuvering to engage us before they would have even had time to blink.”

“One moment,” the admiral interrupted. They were now almost on top of the fighters. “Tractor control,” he called to a crew-pit “grab that fighter out of the air and real it into the hangar as quickly as you can.” Thrawn flipped his comlink back on. “Continue commander”

“Yes sir,” Bas sounded like he had himself a bit more collected now. “I have to say admiral, it was the TIE Defenders that really decided it. With the numbers favoring them two to one, that kind of suicide attack would have beaten us in TIEs, or even in those new Interceptors. But with the Defenders shields and weapons, we mowed them down to even numbers in a matter of minutes.”

“Gratifying to hear,” Thrawn replied. “And they persisted in single-minded attacks?”

“No sir, not entirely,” Bas clarified. “Once their numbers had been halved, they did begin to show some tactical thinking, and did maneuver quite nicely. Their fighters must have at least the speed of Interceptors, and match the Defenders in maneuverability But my pilots worked in strict concert to keep each other supported, so we could not be lured into a bad position. But as we kept shooting them down, the remaining enemy pilots seemed to fall back on mindlessness. You saw the damage Defender-5 took, losing his port wing array? That was from one of the enemy _ramming_ him! If he had not already fired the missiles mounted on that wing, he would have been lost.”

“Could that have been an accident?” Thrawn pressed.

“I do not believe so admiral. The fighter was already damaged to the point that it's weapons had apparently been disabled; Defender-8 got on its six, then it went into a steep dive and curved directly into Defender-5's path!”

Pelleaon thought he could credit the wing commanders theory, for as they watched the remaining hostile seemed to have picked a tactic of flying blindly right at the largest concentration of surrounding TIEs, as if hoping to hit one by chance. It kept up such a tight pursuit that when the lock of a tractor beam finally stopped it in midair, a TIE defender was caught too. At a slow, careful pace, both ships were reeled toward the _Chimaera_ 's hangar bay.

“Inexorable,” Thrawn declared quietly. “These beings fought with a single purpose, to destroy us. Once engaged, the attack was not halted for any reason; indifferent to changes in circumstance, and regardless of losses.” The admiral glanced at Pelleaon solemnly. “A foolish tactic; but also, as we saw, a dangerous one. An instinctual thought process, bred into the entire species? Or a learned behavior; possibly even adopted based on previous encounters with the empire.”

The enemy fighter was lost from sight as it was pulled under the star destroyer's hull, and Thrawn broke his reverie and turned to Faro. “Ensure that a squad of stormtroopers is ready to take our new prisoner to the nearest holding cell. They are to expect violent resistance, but it _must_ be kept alive.”

“That may be problematic,” Pelleaon quietly pointed out as Faro turned away. “With a completely unknown species, we can't be certain what foods or environmental conditions it needs to survive. And there is also the matter of whether or not we can communicate with it.”

“A familiarity with Imperial communications would require at least a minimal understanding of Imperial basic,” Thrawn pointed out, as he turned away from the command deck, back toward the holodisplay.

“But it would not necessarily need to be consistent throughout their entire population,” Pelleaon pressed. “The practice of grunt soldiers only being told what it is deemed they need to know is almost universal in the galaxy. And in many alien races it is compounded by archaic cast systems and other forms of social tribalism. A common pilot might not be able to tell us very much of anything useful.”

“On the contrary,” The grand admiral keyed on the display, which began playing a recording of the battle. As he spoke, Thrawn's gaze never left the images, and followed every small movement and subtle response. “Even one prisoner, however poorly educated and trained, should prove to be a wealth of information. And even if we cannot hold a dialogue, then nonverbal communications will remain open to us. Most species in the galaxy can be fundamentally understood by tracing their behavior back the the most basic of impulses and reactions. We will begin our study of this race as soon as their second attack has been dealt with, and I believe we can acquire another source of native insight in the process.”

Pelleaon gave him a puzzled glance. “Second attack?”

 

* * *

 

_And here I thought I was getting away from it all_. Ezra briefly struggled to clip the safety harness of a chair a little too small for him, as the Murelani ship shot up from the cliffs of the Hive's colony and rocketed off at a dead run for open space.

He was sitting in one of the chairs immediately behind the pilot and copilot, with Kaarep to his right and the captain at one of the stations in front of them.

Overhead, a single cruiser was following them, descending gradually as it fell in on their tail. _If you could call it a cruiser?_ It was one of the strangest ships the young jedi had seen in four very busy years of planet hopping; even when it had mostly been in the Outer Rim. It looked like an almost perfect sphere, though it had a large set of thruster engines, and various other extruding equipment that he had a feeling probably represented weapons. It couldn't be a very effective design for moving through an atmosphere, and must have suffered from more than a little drag from air resistance.

But that wasn't going to be a problem. As it descended from the upper atmosphere, the ship was in a good position to intercept them as long as they tried to rise. While the Murelani tried to swerve and evade, these Vahetey would be able to cover more distance by making smaller corrections to keep on target

Ezra couldn't read any of the written notes on the sensor screen; it was all in Murelani writing, which looked like a bunch of rows of short lines with smaller lines, circles, and other marks sprouting from them. The images of the ships moving on screen were pretty clear though; they weren't going to make it out of gravity.

_The ships not that much bigger than us_ , Ezra thought. _Maybe we can take it._

The round cruiser slowed slightly, as approximately two dozen fighters pored out of hangars on either side. In moments they arranged themselves into wings of three, and dove down toward the Murelani cruiser.

_Karabast!_

One of the sensor crew shouted something as the fighters came screaming down on them. It was pretty close to being a scream really; whoever these people were this was obviously not a crew of trained soldiers. Most managed not to panic though, or at least they kept from showing it as the captain barked orders. The pilot pulled on his controls and banked the ship to port-side, steering away from an intercept with the fighters.

It was a very gradual turn, so that the ship lost little speed as it cruised away from the Vahetey craft. It was too late to tell, but Ezra had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to be enough.

_To the Hive_ , came a sudden call in his mind. Ezra glanced over his shoulder to see the three Kind that had come aboard as Kaarep's observers. He hadn't noticed they'd come on the bridge, and he couldn't help feeling a little nervous about that.

_Fly to the Hive_ , they insisted; that internal voice sounding mild as always in spite of the circumstances. _The Kind protects their quests_.

“Theay spiek?” Ezra didn't think Kaarep could hear them, but he'd noticed the jedi trading a long look with the insects. Acting before his better judgment could take over, Ezra nodded. “They said we should turn back to the Hive,” he shouted. “That they will protect us.”

He expected the Murelani to be skeptical, but he immediately gave instructions to the pilot, who jerked the stick into a tight turn. Everyone on the bridge was thrown against their harnesses as the thrusters battle with the ships momentum.

“You think they can help,” Ezra shouted over the roar of thrusters and the wail of alarms.

“Thie Kiind haave aaa naatire thaat iis rariely understoud,” Kaarep replied just as loudly. “But theiy du not deciive to haarm!”

When they straightened out, Ezra checked the display again and saw they might have gone from bad to worse. The turn had cost valuable time, and allowed the fighters to get closer. The first rank opened fire on the cruisers tail, with sensors suddenly blaring and flashing shades of red. The light laser cannons on the fighters did not puncture the cruisers shields at first; but they were getting closer and closer, with all the rear craft adding fire as their defenses slowly weakened.

The captain continued shouting orders as she flipped controls in front of her own station. Based on the monitor screens the ship was rerouting all the power it could to rear shields and engines. Their big and small laser guns along the hull were firing desperately back at the Vahetey, though it seemed the gunners had little experience in leading small, fast moving targets. Ezra clutched at the arm rest as he had to resist the urge to leap out of his chair and run for the nearest laser turret. He wasn't use to just sitting around and watching when lives were in danger.

One of the enemy fighters caught fire suddenly, as a lucky shot must have hit its engines or exhaust. A little explosion soon burst from its midsection, and in a flash it became a burning wreck falling out of the sky behind the other fighters. This seemed to give some new spirit to the defenders, who poured on even quicker fire that seemed to be getting a little more accurate. But the Vahetey noticed too, and they began to follow in maneuvers of random dips, rises and swerves to make themselves more difficult targets. The incoming fire slackened as their aim was thrown off more and their speed reduced a little; but the fighters still crept closer and closer. Another was shot down, and then another after that, but the loses only seemed to make them more determined to close in on their prey.

Ezra was so focused on the displays that he almost didn't notice when they reached the Hive. He was keeping his intuition open, and a sudden wave of mental chatter surrounded him; which he could pick up clearly but wasn't open enough to decipher. It was like walking from an empty room into a crowded one, and he got the distinct feeling the attentive but still unexcited voices were reviewing a plan. _The warriors are ready_ , he felt from the Kind behind him. _They only wait._

Their ship reached the Hive with shields falling, but pretty much unscathed. It didn't do them much good. With the enemy right on their tail they had no hope of landing and escaping to whatever protection the Hive offered. Nor were there any bug fighter craft appearing on the scene, or even the slightest sign of other defenses being turned on the attackers. Their cruiser passed over the cliffs and kept going at a dead run, still fleeing for its life. Ezra was surprised by how much that surprised him; in spite of everything, he didn't think the Kind were capable of lying.

And then as the Vahetey fighters passed overhead, the cliffs of the Hive exploded. Or at least they seemed to; it looked at first as if sections of the rockwalls burst and a cloud of debris was hurled into the air. Then Ezra realized they were growing clouds of bugs.

A swarm of insects shot into the sky on humming wings from every hole and crevice on the ground, engulfing their pursuers in a dark cloud. Ezra recognized them as the same kind of bugs that had guarded the queen; but he'd never noticed they had wings, or seen anywhere near that many of them. _They could have been hidden, in a deeper part of the caverns. Who knows how far down the tunnels go?_ He tried not to think about whether or not the kind could be hiding anything else.

The warrior bugs swarmed the Vahetey, attacking the fighters without hesitation or regard for their own safety. Ezra realized that the warriors were making a noise; before the Kind had only made sounds when talking to those they couldn't telepathically communicate with, but he didn't think they meant to say anything now. The noise was a kind of buzzing most beings would expect from an insect swarm; but it was surprisingly deep, undeniably menacing, and the young jedi shielded his mind as it grew loud enough to crowd out his own thoughts.

Surrounded by attackers, the fighters began swerving like drunken racers, firing wildly as they tried to hurt their attackers in any possible way. Dozens of bugs fell from the sky as they were smashed against the crafts metal sides, and shots often took out two or more at a time.

But it didn't make a dent.

It reminded Ezra of footage he'd seen from the clone wars, of Separatist buzz droids latching on to a fighter and tearing it apart. The insects didn't have the tools of a buzz droid, or the almost surgical skill. But they were bigger, stronger, and wouldn't stop coming. In less than a minute it was over, and the entire Vahetey squadron was slaughtered. Some flew right into the cliff sides in their wild maneuvers, most crashed to the ground after a rain of scrap pieces fell of them like shed skin. The Kind warriors didn't even cease their attack after the ships went down; those killed still clinging as they crashed were replaced by waves that swarmed the wrecks to leave no survivors.

_That's a lot of bugs dying_ , Ezra thought with bitterly. _But what doesn't matter much to the whole hive, now does it._

An awkward cheer had started around the cockpit. He could feel the crews relief to be free of pursuit; but most were shocked, and even a little repulsed, by how it had been done.

But it wasn't over. A green alarm suddenly began flashing bright orange on the control board, sending the pilot jerking them into evasive maneuvers just moments before turbolaser fire reigned down on them.

A couple hundred feet above, the round cruiser was racing to match their pace. Whether it was too high up or just too large, the Kind made no move to attack it. With the fighters destroyed, the bugs now scattered as the attackers began raining missiles and small turbolaser shots down on them. The insect warriors fled, swarming back into their holes. A huge number converged at the various entrances almost at once, and yet their was no bottleneck as the bugs flew among each other. It was a little like watching liquid emptying into drains, and in a matter of moments the cloud of insects had nearly disappeared

_No more._ Ezra hadn't seen any of the bugs really use facial expression, but the ones behind him dropped their antenna, and lowered themselves to the floor, in a way that seemed sorrowful. _We can do no more._

Kaarep shouted something at the pilot, who pressed down on his controls and sent the ship shooting off across the desert. The Vahetey cruiser hesitated for one moment, but it's fire did not seem to be having any effect on the cliff sides of the Hive, and Ezra could feel the vague collective hope of the bridge dim as it leaped forward like a predator after its meal.

Now the ball ship started to descending, at a gradual pace that would not bring it close to level with them until they were both far from the Hive. Kaarep and the captain were having a heated discussion with each other, and Ezra hopped it was going to lead to a plan. There was no chance of running back to the Hive to try and lure the cruiser into the same trap; they'd be nerfheads to fall for it, and turning back now would point them on an intercept course as the Vahetey got closer and closer.

The talking finished as Kaarep pointed to something on the screen and snapped out a decisive instruction. The pilot nodded and tilted the ship into a gradual turn pointing them northeast. Someone on the ship was working overtime, because their thruster-speed managed to increase on top of the dead run they were already flying at.

“Do we have a plan?” Ezra tried not to sound too desperate.

“Aanouthier raange,” Kaarep's ears were perked up and twitching almost comically, his face otherwise grim as he pointed to a blur barely visible in the distance. “Hiegher cliiffs. Wie miight lose theam. Loung einough tou reecharge shiields aand run tou spaace.”

That was a pretty hopeless plan even in Ezra's experience, but he decided not to say it. He could tell the ambassador already knew. Maybe if the shields could hold a good charge until they got-

The Vahetey sphere was still gaining on them, though their boost made it a very slow gain. They must have finally reached some target range, because at that moment a cluster of missiles fired from the balls flanks and came roaring at them.

The pilot brought up his controls, lurching the ship violently as he tried to evade without slacking their speed too much. He feinting up, down, left, and right, managed to dodge all but two of the hastily fired missiles. But two was enough to weaken their already punished rear shields almost by half, and send Kaarep's ears drooping in despair.

_This is it,_ Ezra thought. _I've taken out star destroyers, and I'm going to be killed by a flying slingball._ Part of him was starting to get infuriated by that, by the unfairness of these last few days. He gave up everything to save his world, to fight against an evil threatening to conquer the galaxy; and now had traveled to the edge of space just to die in the middle of nowhere, collateral damage in some other conquest!

The young jedi closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing down his anger with the calming techniques his master had taught him so many times. Maybe it was unfair, but if he had to make the same choice again, knowing it would end like this, it wouldn't change anything.

_And I_ hav _e taken out a few star destroyers._ He flexed his fingers as he felt the living Force begin to tingle under his skin, slipping into the focus of battle he'd become so familiar with. _What's this toy cruiser compared to that?_

A single missile fired from the ball ship this time, and the pilot managed to dodge it by perhaps a meter. It hit the desert with the colorful explosion of a proton torpedo. If one of those hit them it would be all over, even if they'd had full shields!

Kaarep shouted something animatedly at the pilot, cut off the captain's attempted reply, and then seemed to sink into his seat right in front of Ezra's eyes, shaking his head in resignation. “Wie haave nou choiice,” he declared when he noticed the humans questioning look. “Wie must riise aand run for spaace. Wie miight leaave graaviity beifore they caan . . . stoup us.”

_Meaning destroy us._ “Stay of target,” Ezra replied.

Kaarep looked up, ears perked, probably more surprised than he'd be if Ezra turned into a lothwolf right there on the bridge. “Wie caan't-

“Keep running for the cliffs,” Ezra spoke it like an order. “I'll take care of the missiles.

The Murelani stared at him, now sitting straighter in his chair. He matched the 'searching-yet-expressionless' look of the best sabacc players Ezra had seen; except for the ears, which pointed out at a curious angle. Ezra kept his own gaze steady, and whatever the alien saw seemed to be enough. He nodded, then shouted an order to the pilot, who quite trying to maneuver and straightened the ship into a dead run for the mountains growing in the distance.

The Vahetey ship fired missiles again.

There were four this round. Ezra had used the force to deflect missiles before, but those had all come one at a time. He wasn't sure he had the skill yet to divide his concentration enough to put them all off course. _But maybe there's an easier way?_

Ezra bowed his head, eyes closed with hands cupped in his lap, and pictured their ship in his minds eye. Clearing out the noises and lights of the bridge and the battle, he poured all his focus into one idea; that there was a giant shield curving over the back end of the ship.

This had taken him only a second or two, and now the Vahetey missiles came screaming in for the kill. They raced toward the ship, aimed dead on for the now unwavering thruster engines.

About fifteen meters short they exploded, lighting a mid-air fireball. It was a violent display, but held to a neat and slightly curved shaped at one side; as if blowing against an giant transpara-steal divide.

The Vahetey fired another round, then another. Turbolasers joined in, and projectiles exploded with the bright hues of shield piercing proton torpedoes None of them reached the ship.

The Murelani bridge had gone silent. Crewmen starred from their consoles, to their alien passenger, and back again. Lights dimmed, and sirens quieted, as the ship was now free from assault. Even their own turbolasers had stopped firing, the solid but unsophisticated wall trailing the ship blocked them too. Slowly, one of the station monitors eased from pulsing dark green to lighter and lighter shades, as reserve power began to recharge the relieved shields.

Ezra only registered this in the back of his mind, being otherwise focused on the curved wall between them and the enemy. The wall was forged by his will, and he held it firm an unbending against the enemy barrage.

The missiles stopped now, with only the turbolasers keeping up a futile barrage. In spite of their dead run, the great ball continued to gain, slowly but surely. It was almost on top of them when they reached the mountain range.

The pilot hit the breaks and pulled the ship up, a maneuver that punished their thrusters and threw everyone forward in their chairs and then back down again, as the cruiser vaulted clumsily over the first row of cliffs. Barely missing a protruding peak they dove back down into the great crevice of the mountain range. With the Vahetey just a moment behind them they shot off into the twisting canyons; the pilot making liberal use of both the speed and brake controls as he blazed a suicidal course around towering rock formations.

Ezra had lost his grip on the shield, which they didn't need anymore, and now focused on settling his jumping nerves and roiling stomach. The sound of rock scraping metal was accompanied by the despairing wail of the crewmen, which from a few almost sounded like a whimper. Ezra didn't blame them. This was some maneuvering that he might not have wanted to try in the _Ghost;_ and _this_ cruiser was about three times its length and twice as wide!

They charged headlong into a narrower section of canyon, the pilot tilting them to the side for more room as rocks scrapped against the hull. The Vahetey ball had to rise into the air to clear the same track, and still barely missed tearing parts of its underside off. Their pursuers would not be able to keep this up for more then a little while. But would they?

Maybe it was better maneuverability, but the Vahetey somehow stayed tight enough on their tail to resume firing. Both ships were moving too wildly for missiles to ever hope to lock, but turbolasers shot back and forth between them; and the shields which were already being battered on rock outcroppings were being to fail again. They weren't shaking their pursuers, and they had no hope of breaking for the atmosphere now.

“Caaan youu agaaiin?” Kaarep yeld to Ezra frantically, clutching his own seat so desperately his nails left scrathes along it.

“NO,” Ezra shouted over another near miss with a protruding rock to their underside. His senses were too alive to get his focus back anytime soon, and they ran frantically as he tried to find some course of action that wouldn't lead to imminent death.

And on the periphery of his senses, he felt something nearby.

“What's that?” he he pointed to the sensor display, which showed the mountains to the eastern side giving way to a churning mass. He had to shout to be heard over the groaning of the ship, punished from rocky collisions and prolonged speeding through the air resistance of a planets atmosphere.

“Opein plaaiin,” Kaarep replied. “Saandstourm. Biig.”

“Take use in,” the Murelani looked at him as if he'd gone insane. And considering what he was about to do, maybe he had. “Take use into the storm!”

With an odd sort of throat-hacking cry that Ezra got the feeling might have been some kind of profanity, the alien shouted an order at his pilot, who in turn took his eyes off their course for a heart stopping second to look back at them before obeying.

Thrusters squealed as they swerved to leap back into the air, rising over the rows of cliffs and canyons to charge headlong for the massive sea of sand that stretched across the horizon. A pair of missiles streaked past on their tail, as the Vahetey tried to make a shot without time to aim. Like a fish jumping into the open air and then immediately back down to safety they dove straight into the massive whirlwind. Apparently overcome by their mad desire to catch a prey that had run them ragged, the Vahetey didn't hesitate before diving in after them. Chances were neither crew even noticed the one feature that dotted the landscape ahead of them.

A dull roar fell over the darkened bridge, as tons of sand began to pummel the hull from every direction. Alarms blared, and the pilot fought for control as winds battered them this way and that. Ezra had to force a skin tingling feeling of claustrophobia down; as the sandy gale oddly struck him as a more hostile environment than any part of the vacuum of space he'd flown through.

“Wie biii tiime,” Kaarep announced to him over the roar. “Wie must braake for spaace soon, or wie wiil nevear shaake them!”

“Keep speeding ahead,” Ezra ordered. “We can get them off our tail in a few more minutes.”

“Aany miinute theiy wiil reaaliize theiy neied siimply riise aabove thie storm aand waiit for use to emeirge.” Kaarep insisted. “Iif they get the hiigher, we wiil neveir escaape!”

“Just a few more minutes,” Ezra pleaded. They were still speeding forward at full throttle, as straight and as fast as they could against the barrage of wind. The Vahetey were right behind them, somehow keeping eyes on their tail even in the storm. Ezra could feel the vague malice of the hunters, determined to have their prey at any cost.

_There's always a bigger predator!_

“NOW,” Ezra shouted at the pilot. “Take us up now!”

Kaarep gave his own command, and the pilot pulled back on the controls to raise them into a steep climb.

The ship shot out from the clouds suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch. Everyone in the cockpit winced at the momentarily blinding light; but the pilot didn't waiver, and the rest blinked it away while turning to the nearest sensor screen. For a moment , the swirling surface of the storm was unmarked, and a few started to let themselves believe the Vahetey had been fooled.

Then the spherical warship roared into the clear sky. It was off the mark, but twisted into a tight curve and came up on their rear once again. A cry of collective anger and despair rose up around the bridge, and the red and orange sensor light flashed on again. Ezra couldn't help but brace for the incoming missiles.

Just as a hail of laser fire struck the attacking ship.

The pilot and some other crewmen cried out, but in surprise rather than fear. The ship jolted violently, before he instinctively brought it down into a frantic dive away from the followup fire that never hit them. The course change pointed them in the direction of their savior, and Ezra heard Kaarep let out a gasp.

The ISD _Chimaer_ a pierced the sky above the storm, its giant arrowhead shape pointed rignt at the Vahetey. It was even more battered and beaten then the last time Ezra saw it, with marks up and down the hull that still smoked from the fight he just knew it'd had with the other two Vahetey ships. He didn't think he needed to wonder what happened to them.

Laser fire laced out from the star destroyer's many batteries, striking the alien ball again and again. It wasn't the most impressive display of Imperial firepower the young jedi had ever seen; just a fraction of what Thrawn had commanded at Atallon, or even less than a week ago on Lothal. But he felt the minds of all the Murelani around him, and the hulking ship, seeming even bigger in the atmosphere then it did in space, made a terrible impression.

A sudden “WHOOP” from someone broke the silence on the bridge as an entire squadron of TIE Defenders swooped out of the sky to strafe the Vahetey ship, screaming away before they could return fire. It turned into a ragged cheer as small spots of smoke and flame appeared on the Vahetey cruiser as it flailed about, trying to find a way out of the gundark nest it had flown into. Ezra was somewhat distracted by the frightening realization that, in spite of Phoenix Teams best efforts, the Empire had already managed to produce a significant number of Defenders. He didn't want to think about what that might mean for the Alliance.

He was snapped back to focus when the captain began to bang her fist on the console, and he saw the Vahetey ship being racked by a series of explosions before it finally plummeted from the sky and disappeared into the sandstorm.

“Your friiends?” Kaarep asked over the gleeful cheering of the crewmen, some of whom were practically weeping with relief. By now the pilot had halted their mad dash, and slowly brought their ship around to face the _Chimaera_.

Ezra glared murderously at the star destroyer, shaking his head. “Not even close! _Imperials_.”

“Mmh,” the Murelani ambassador had schooled his features back into something unreadable, except for a slight twitch of the ears that Ezra took to be excitement. “Wiell,” he gazed on the star destroyer, with its awesome size and terrible weaponry, that had just blown an enemy warships to hell with ease. “Wie maay sie.”

 

**No excuse for how long this took. Hopefully you haven't given up on me.**

 

**I just finished reading Thrawn Alliances. Aside from being a great book, it had some really game changing twists that could have some big implications for the Star Wars canon, especially in the case of Thrawn and Ezra. I'll have to decide whether or not I want to adjust my story accordingly.**

 

**Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner. Please Review!!**

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, I have absolutely no excuse for how long this took!**

  
  


The Murelani cruiser approached the daunting mass of the star destroyer at a smooth, cautious pace, as Ezra did his best to convince his new friends not to walk into the proverbial Rancor-pit.

"I'm telling you, you don't know what your walking into," the young jedi earnestly pleaded. "Maybe you met Imperials before; but they weren't around long enough for you to see what the Empire is really like."

"Ii caan iimagiine," Kaarep responded. "Miy greaatest iimpression of thee Iimperiaals waas aa compleete aassumption thaat their desiires would bie meet, aand aan iimpatiience wiith aany contraary viiew. Theiy were veery nearly thrown out whien theiy maade too bieliitle the Jaan-Maia aat her own taable." His tone was patient, but Ezra could see in his eyes that there was a flurry of thoughts running through his mind, and the intensity of his gaze grew just enough to notice as the jedi kept talking. Maybe he was loosing his patience with Ezra. Or he believed every word. "But Ii haave aawoken thiis mourning too fiind not just thie Vahetey on miy peioples doorsteep, but aa diistaant threaat aas weill," He turned his gaze back out the viewport, which was now filling with the star destroyers gaping hangar. "Wie must move cairfulley."

"Your going to ask him for help, aren't you." he didn't really need him to answer. "Your going to ask him to fight the Vahetey?"

"Whaat Ii do, or do not aask of thiese people, wiil diepend on how Ii fiind them."

"You can't trust them," Ezra insisted. "The Empire will become a bigger threat then the enemies you have now."

"Yiou don't belliieve theiy wiil honor aany agrieemant?"

"Honor isn't a word they speak," he spat. "Especially admiral Thrawn. He lead the Empire in opressing my homeworld for months as his forces broke down anyone who would resist them. Before I . . was captured, he forced me to surrender by having his ships fire on my city; he must have killed hundreds of people, all in the name of his Empire!"

Kaarep was silent for a moment, as the captain and bridgecrew pretended they werent listening. "Aand whaat," he finally asked. "Wiil thiis 'Aadmiraal' do, iif Ii leave hiim here?"

Ezra ground his teeth, but had to answer honestly. "I can't tell you for sure, Thrawn almost never does what you expect. But he'll probably try and find a way back to Imperial space.

Kaarep nodded, as if he had come to a decision. "Ii must meit wiith thiese beiings," he looked Ezra straight in the eye. "Aat aa tiime liike thiis, such aa thiing caannot bie iignored. Ii caannot adviise miy Jaan-Maia, or miy peiople, on thie beest course untiil Ii haave some iidea of theiir iintentions."

"They won't be honest with you," maybe Ezra couldn't stop him, but he could at least try to help. "Thrawn's favorite weapon is manipulation; you need to keep up your guard at all times, and don't give him anything he could ever use against you."

The graying Murelani arched an eyebrow at him, ears going back slightly in what might have been displeasure. "Ii do haave some expiieriance iin dealing wiith aliiens," he replied. "Aand unforuenateely, wie Murelani haave no iignorance of diishonesty."

"Yah, I didn't mean anything," Ezra let out a sigh, venting the frustration he knew he shouldn't vent on this alien. "I just wish I could do more to help."

The ambassador gazed at him for several seconds, before seeming to come to a decision. "You maay joiin us iin thie meetiing, iif you would liike." He undid his seat buckle and stood up, straightening his coat and metal belt. "But iit would bie beist iif you do not . . . iirk theise peiople aas Ii speiak wiith theim."

"I'll do my best," Ezra sighed again as he rose from his own seat, glancing one last time out the viewport to confirm they'd stopped moving. The cruiser must have lined up its side hatch to the hangars flight deck; leaving them too far into the ships weapons to leave now, except at Admiral Thrawn's pleasure.

Kaarep was only halfway to the bridge door when the three Kind decided to approach him.  _We will join you in the meeting_ _, the one that seemed to be the leader said;_ _our queen wishes to lay eyes on these new comers._

Kaarep replied in his own language, and Ezra dipped his toes just deep enough into the Kind's hive mind to hear the translation. "That may not be . . ideal. These aliens may be overwhelmed to meet too many new peoples at once."

_That may be. Perhaps we could make an offer for a later meeting; invite them to come into the Hive itself, that we might both learn of each othe_ _r._

With any other beings Ezra would have suspected that was a slight threat to get their way; but the Kind seemed as sincerely innocent as they always did. Ezra saw the Murelani's ears twitch with what was probably nervousness. He didn't blame him, letting the Kind and Imperials meet was definitely dangerous. He just wasn't sure who it would be most dangerous for?

"Time may prove to be of the essence," Kaarep backtracked with a straight face. "Perhaps if only one of you accompanied us."

They gave no sign of agreeing other than the middle bug stepping forward.

After a beat Kaarep nodded, and turned into the hallway. They pasted a few crewmen, in various uniforms that all followed a black with red highlights theme; the workers were scurrying about with tools and equipment, likely working to repair damage from the battle.

They arrived at the side boarding hatch to be met by the same two guards Ezra had seen before. They leaned against the wall with pikes resting at their sides, but snapped to attention as soon as the trio approached. Kaarep stopped to speak into his silver com, then took a moment to discuss something with his guards.

Ezra tried not to fidget, as the Murelani appeared to be waiting for something. He stood rather awkwardly next to the insect, which seemed perfectly content to stand quiet and still, except for the slight twitch of its antenna.

"So, is this your first time on a ship," he asked on impulse.

_Yes._

Ezra would have said he could relate, only the bug didn't seem to think it was anything special. "Do you have a name?" He was a little nervous, and wanted to talk.

_Turut._

Ezra sighed. "Of course."

It turned out that they were waiting for two more armed guards; and if Kaarep thought he might need them Ezra couldn't blame him. The ambassador gestured for the jedi to come up behind him, before slipping into his sabacc face, or whatever these aliens would call it. Ezra took a deep breath, clearing his head of any fear or doubt, at the same time he reached out to the Force and began to prepare to fight for his life if he needed. Then they stepped out into the star destroyers hangar.

The hangar had taken a bit of a beating since the last time he'd showed up to surrender. A few bent and blacked marks on the outer walls showed where shots from the battle had gotten through. Half the flight deck had a fine layer of dust over it, marked by the tracks of cleaning droids, so the ships weight must have sunk it deep enough into the sand for the deck to be at least level with the ground. Whether it had been in preparation for their arrival or not, most of the vehicles that would normally occupy the space had been relocated. The railings for TIE fighters sat empty, and the only a pair of officers shuttles rested in either back corner.

Something was edging into Ezra senses though, and he was willing to bet that if this meeting went wrong, some serious firepower was ready and waiting to come out at a moments notice.

The only threat that could be seen was seven Imperials waiting just twenty-five feet in front of them. Thrawn was in the lead, dressed in his normal spotless white uniform, its various metallic bits looking just a little shinier than normal. He was flanked by his gray haired captain on one side, and a woman with a fleet commanders badge on the other. Four stormtroopers stood in a line behind them, blasters clipped onto belts in an obvious attempt to look none threatening.

There was no hint of doubt or insincerity on Thrawn's face, the grand admiral was the picture of friendly interest as he watched them disembark into the hangar. Anyone who didn't know him, or recognize the Imperial uniform, would probably never guess that he was any threat. Even the red glowing eyes managed to look like they held nothing but normal curiosity; though the Ezra was sure he was already examining the new species for threats and weaknesses. The young jedi cautiously zeroed in on the admiral with his own more ethereal senses, hoping to detect a reaction in the aliens guarded mind.

And to his own surprise, he got one. As soon as the single Kind in the rear of their group stepped into sight, the admiral's face went rigid, his smile diminishing and eyes widening. It was only for a moment, and not exactly dramatic by the standards of most people; but for Thrawn, that was quite a slip. Even his captain noticed, glanced at the admiral out of the corner of one eye. The feeling Ezra read from his thoughts was clear; surprise, almost shock. Surprise, and recognition.

And then it was gone, and the alien mind closing of again.

Whatever Thrawn's powers of straightfaced-ness, Kaarep was able to match them. The ambassador strode calmly toward the waiting Imperials, looking neither fearful nor impressed. His posture was straight and upright, with only slight movements of his eyes to show that he was glancing over every detail of the hangar, and the humans in it. It vaguely reminded Ezra of the once-over Hera would give when the  _Ghost_ came across some new rebel cell; discretely learning everything she could, before she decided how they'd have to be handled.

For his part, the young jedi fixed Thrawn with a murderous glare; and thought it was a pretty big compromise that it was all he did. The admiral met his gaze directly, remaining completely non-pulsed by it. Ezra took a quick second to stare down his captain and commander, who were both quick to look just slightly away from him.

Kaarep came to a stop about ten feet from the admiral, and then brought his arms out with palms forward for the same kind of half bow he'd given the Queen. Standing upright, with hands folded in front of him, he looked Thrawn square in the red eye as he spoke. "Greetiings, worthy viisiitors. On beihalf of mie peiople the Murelaanii, aas Jaan-taik Kaarep of Kalbalka, Ii would liike to eixtend mie deepiiest thaanks for thie greait aiid you haave giiven us."

Still smiling in a way that made Ezra's teeth grind, Thrawn dipped his head forward in return, with his shoulders lowering just slightly also. It wasn't really a bow; but was still more acknowledgment than most Imperials would ever give an alien. His captain and commander looked just a little irritated.

"It was an assistance we were happy to give." Thrawn replied in his usual smooth and cultured basic; though just a beat slower than normal, either for some subtle mind game, or just so the alien would have an easier time understanding him. "I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, and may I bring you greetings from the Galactic Empire. While our incursion into this region of space was unintended, I hope you will join us in making this a beneficial first meeting, for our two civilizations."

"And hopefully a very brief one," wise or not, Ezra couldn't hold his tongue in this situation. "After which we accept your most heartfelt goodbyes."

Thrawn looked entirely unfazed, and his officers were professional enough not to react. "Commander Bridger," the admiral inclined his head. "It is good to see you have emerged unscathed from your most recent adventures." He almost sounded sincere; then his gaze flicked briefly to the insect, crouching just behind the Murelani guards. "I'd be very interested in hearing an account of them."

"Well right now I don't have time for another vacation to the cell block." Ezra crossed his arms. "Maybe we can get caf sometime."

"There are more pressing questions anyway," Thrawn turned back to Kaarep. "One being, how does a being this far into territory unknown to the Empire learn to speak the language of basic so well?"

Kaarep nodded, expecting this. "Thee aanswer iis thaat, reigardless of whaat thee greater paart of your peiople know of iit, thiis reigion of spaace haas been reached bie your Empiire beifore."

"Fascinating," Thrawn looked genuinely interested. "It had not been thought possible to reach this far from our native worlds. I trust young Bridger here has already informed you of the unusual circumstances of our arrival?"

"Yies," Kaarep's expression remained neutral. "Iit iis my understaanding thaat your comiing here waas aan aaciident, aand thaat you repriisent two siides iin aa diistaant waar."

"Indeed," Thrawn nodded, and Ezra started to sweat just a little. If Thrawn went into more detail, Kaarep would know that he had not told him the whole truth, that he had brought the Imperials. He might already suspect there had been more too it.

Luckily, Thrawn didn't mention it. "There are a number of malcontent factions within the Empire, of which commander Bridger is a member, who are currently resisting Imperial rule."

"But we cannot start a meeting with a lecture on our respective politics," Thrawn plowed on before Ezra could reply, gesturing to a pair of doors along the portside wall. "And if you would not object, we might continue any discussion more comfortably. Unless you would prefere it on your own ship."

"Thaank you," Kaarep replied evenly. "Aanythiinhg you haave preipaired wiill suffiice." He didn't show it, but Ezra sensed a healthy suspicion, probably of whether or not Thrawn was deliberately trying to get a look at the inside of the Murelani cruiser.

With a nod, the admiral gestured to the door again, turning toward it as they all moved to follow. The commander, glanced over her shoulder, toward the four pike armed guards moving behind Ezra and Kaarep, flanking the four stormtroopers. The jedi sensed her apprehension, but when she looked forward again Thrawn, who could not have seen her, shook his own head just enough to be noticed.

The doors lead them into what must have been a hastily reconfigured storage room, now cleared out and set up with a round conference table and chairs. Thrawn sat down at one end, with the captain and commander on either side. Kaarep sat at the other, and Ezra took a seat next to him.

"I am not aware of what is a customary greeting among your people," Thrawn started. "To begin, I would like to introduce the commander of this ship, Captain Pellaeon, and his second officer Commander Faro." After motioning to both respectively, Thrawn's gazes flicked toward the Kind who still crouched next to the Murelani guards now loitering behind their leader. "With respect, Jaan-taik Kaarep, it seems your party has not been fully introduced?"

"Yeis," Kaarep nodded swiveling his chair to gesture at the insect. "Wie heave brought wiith use one of thie naatiives of thiis plaanet, one of aa speicies of iinsects thaat caall theimselves siimply 'the Kiind.' Hiis purpose iis only to be aan obsierver for hiis peaple."

"The  _Kind_ , you say," Thrawn leaned back thoughtfully, and Ezra could sense a lot more activity to his mind than his appearance suggested. Something about the bugs had him fixated. "They are your allies?"

"Not aat preisent," Kaarep replied. "Wie caame here today to enliist their help iif we should haave confliict with thee Vaahetey. They would not commiit, but seent thiis one and two others to observe the criisees."

The bug clacked his mandibles, prompting the Murelani guards to scoot away from it a little as it spoke mentally.  _We bring you greetings beings of the Empire, and extend to you the same welcome of friendship that all receive among the Kind_ _._ Apparently, unless one had skills in the Force, it took time for other beings to understand the messages of the Kind. But everyone, minus Ezra and Kaarep, must have felt some unintelligible pressure on the mind because the whole room tensed. There came the  _cluck_  and  _ZT_  of four blaster carbines being snatched up and their safeties switched off by the alarmed stormtroopers, as their captain tensed and the commander leaped to her feet. Ezra could sense anxiety from all of them, even the Murelani who must have been prepared for it.

Only Thrawn gave no reaction, his thoughts actually feeling vaguely as if a question had been answered, as Kaarep translated out loud. "We are most grateful for the invitation," the admiral nodded to the insect. "And may take an opportunity to greet your people more properly in the future." He smiled sincerely. "And may I ask, by what name does one address an ambassador of the Kind?"

 _Turut is our name_ , the bug responded.

"Whaat theay mean," Kaarep interjected after he translated. "Iis thaat iis the naame of their Hiive. Thee Kiind follow aa siingle liinked miind, aand do not aact aas . . . iindeviidual beings."

"Fascinating," Thrawn gave no indication if this was surprising. "And how many 'hives' are found in this region of space?"

"Onlay one.”  
"I see," the admiral smiled. "I hope we will have a chance to more fully understand each other in the future."

For now," he turned back to Kaarep, the casualness gone from his face. "I have more pressing questions about the beings who attacked you, ans this ship, with no clear provocation."

"Thee Vaahetey," Kaarep replied. "They aare aa young raace, new to thee spaace betwean staars. Aand they appear to haave come for waar."

The admirals face didn't change, but his eyes hardened. "Against who?"

"Frum whaat wie haave seen, everiione." Kaarep sighed. "They spread their raace out to the staars aaround their homeworld, aas maany do, but do not seem to be content wiith thaat. We knew thaat they were already aat waar wiith anouther people, and miight haave even been wiinning. But iit iis shocking thaat they maiy come thiis faar so faast."

"Have you met them in person," Thrawn asked?

"Twiice," Kaarep replied. "Both whiile Ii waas paart of aa staate viisiit to outher aliean raaces; one of whom, aare the saame beings they aare now aat waar wiith."

"And do you have any idea what brought them here?"

Kaarep did not reply for a second, and while his face remained neutral, Ezra could sense him weighing a decision in his mind. "They maay haave come for you," he finally said. "Iit iis possiible they'ave encontered the Empiire before, whien outher Iimperiial shiips caame through thiis reigion."

"You want to tell use what the Empire was doing," the commander asked "All the way out here?"

"They were aan exploraitory fleet," Kaarep folded his hands on the table. "Aas wee understood iit, they blaazed new routes, jump buy jump from however faar your nearest worlds aare. They only viisiited thee Murelani worlds briefly, beifore contiinuiing on touward the blaa- the eidge of the gaalaxy."

The ambassador set his face to something like an apologetic grimace. "Ii could not tell you whaat becaame of them aafter, onlay thaat they were on aa course thaat poiinted touwaard Vaahetey spaace, aand they never retourned to thiis reigion."

"Did they leave anything behind," the captain spoke up. "Any charts or data on their route."

"No," Kaarep's ears drooped back apologetically. "They left us wiith recorded greetings, aand maateriials thaat helped iin learning your laanguage; Ii caan show you both. But they would not giive us any iinformaation to reach your worlds."

"And you think it likely a conflict arose," Thrawn asked? "That this fleet was destroyed by the Vahetey?"

"I caannot tell you," Kaarep shook his beard-like face fur. "We haad no contaact thaat faar touwaard thee edge aat thaat time. But they never reitourned."

"If they were anything like your average Imperial soldiers," Ezra chimed in, "it figures they probably couldn't go too long without starting a war with someone."

"How large was this Imperial force?" Thrawn cut his officers short of firing back, though they both fixed the jedi with glares.

"Threa destroyers, liike thiis one," Kaarep replied. "They saeid they carriied aa full detaachmient of troops and fiighters."

Thrawn threaded his fingers in thought. "Based on what we have seen of the Vahetey combat capabilities, such a small fleet could very well have fallen to the forces of an entire world. Exactly how many systems do they control?"

"They haave settled twelve, the laast we could confiirm" the Murelani replied. "But we haave unconfiirmed reports thaat they haave gained control of others iin their waar with the Tirekk peaoples. Our reports aare confused, but iit aappears to be a vary . . . bloody confliict."

Thrawn didn't speak for a moment, then reached down to press a button on his desk. The doors wised open, and a fleet trooper stepped in pushing a hoverskid. Ezra and Kaarep both shot to their feet in surprise. Thrawn and his officers also stood, getting a better view of the corps lying on it.

 _A blooddrinker_ , the Kind in the back of the room chimed in.

The outfit it wore looked like a pilots flight suit, but with a lot less of the baggy padding they usually had. The alien was tall and thin; its exposed head and hands looked bony, with thin tight looking gray skin. It had an alien, rather savage appearance; a crest of bone-like ridges ran oblong its chin and up either cheek, with ridgelines being the only mark on its bald, bulbous head. Its eyes were still open, big and dark in deep sockets. It had six fingers on either hand, each tipped with sharp nails that almost looked like claws. On the right hand a large, curved claw protruded from its wrist, caked in dry blood. It matched the dark red gash across its throat.

"We managed to capture a fighter intact during the fighting," Thrawn broke the silence. "But as you can see, the pilot refused to be taken alive."

Ezra felt that shiver run down his back again, the same one from .They had all compulsively gathered around the hoverskid, and the jedi kept getting distracted by the alien's open eyes. He reached out hesitantly with the Force, just making sure it was dead.

"Thaat maatches our reiports," Kaarep spoke gravely.

"Do these reports include any evaluations of their battle doctrines?" Thrawn asked. "More to the point, could you give us any information of the odds of a second strike arriving soon."

"Iit haas aappeared they oftan striike by surpriise; wiith either briief smaall aattaacks, or maass iinvesiions," Kaarep shrugged, his ears dipping back hesitantly. "Ii haave not heard of aa second aattaack so quieckly following aanother."

"You believe then, that we are safe for the time being," Thrawn pressed.

"Yes," Karrep tuned away from gazing at the corpse to address the admiral directly. "Aand iif your 'star destroyer' iis fiit for iit, we could deipaart from thiis systam soon."

"That brings us to our last bit of business," Thrawn somehow straightened himself even further, before nodding deeply in an almost bow toward the ambassador. "Jaan-taik Kaarep of Kalbalka," he repeated the pronunciation flawlessly. "As a representative of the Galactic Empire, I formally request aid from the worlds of the Murelani. This ship is in grievous need of repair, and will soon need resupply. I am afraid we have very little we could offer as compensation, but I give you my personal assurances that any help you render to the Empire will not be forgotten."

The captain frowned, and the commander shuffled just slightly; both obviously a little uncomfortable. The Empire's dealings with alien races were normally much more one sided. For Thrawn to suggest any arrangement of mutual satisfaction, afforded these people a level of equality most Imperials would consider unnatural.

Kaarep took only a moment to nod in agreement. "Your people haave done aa serviice thaat I caan not liikely repay. For thaat, Ii caan pledge you aall the reisources of our world of Kaabaalkaa, to which Ii waas aappointed buy her hiighness the Jaan-Maia to govarn. Beiyond thaat, Ii wiill aalways lobby my government to reinder aany aid iit caan to those who haave proven to be thee friends of her people."

They shook hands, both smiling like they were doing and receiving a great service at once, the picture of friendliness and cooperation. That was how it looked anyway. Ezra could sense the dishonest undercurrent f it all though. Both minds gave off a faint sense of satisfaction; these two beings both had their different goals, and saw this agreement as the way to achieve them. And the handshake, during which they held each others gaze directly, lasted just a moment to long.

Ezra nearly bit his lip, fighting down the impulse to try and stop this all from happening, possibly with violence. He could pull them both apart with the Force fairly easily. If only he still had his lightsaber, he could cut Thrawn's hand off.

But he didn't, because Ezra didn't know what he could do to stop this. He'd already told Kaarep about the Empire, but the alien seemed convinced that it was the smaller threat compared to the Vahetey. And maybe he was partly right; but whatever experience he'd had with Imperials, he didn't know Thrawn.

Unfortunately, the jedi couldn't make him, or any of the other Murelani, see it now. Thrawn may have been an arrogant son of a Lothrat, but Ezra was pretty sure he could win any war of words, which is what would happen if he tried to speak out about this. And he couldn't have missed the fact that the Murelani didn't know how the Imperials really got here.

Ezra clenched his fists till his knuckles turned white, but he managed to stay quiet. Staying quiet or staying still had never come naturally to him; and fighting the Empire had shown him how great the consequences would be when people chose not to act. But as much as anytime in his life, he had to be careful. Out here he had no friends, no no weapons, and no plan. He needed time, he needed to think long and hard about the best course of action.

And he could really use a meal, and some sleep.

Thrawn was first to resume the talking. “The _Chimaer_ a is prepared to leave as soon as possible, we need only the hyperdrive data. I assume you will prefer to make the journey on your own ship?”

“Yes,” Kaarep replied. “Ii look fourwaard to maany more taalks iin the nair future, but there aare maatters Ii must prepaire for aas we maake the journey.”

“I assume commander Bridger intends to go with you then?” Thrawn turned toward the jedi.

“Well,” Ezra crossed his arms. “I wasn't planning to stay here.”

“Ii haave eixtended aan iinviitaation of hospiitaaliity touward commaander Bredger, aas aa maatter of graatiitude.” Kaarep spoke up. “During thee Vaahetey aattaack hie performed . . _heroic_ aactions, wiithout whiich we would not haave surviived aas long aas we diid. Iin reiturn, Ii haave naamed hiim aan honored guest of thee Murelaanii government, wiith promiises of aaccommodaation aand protaction.”

Ezra managed not to let his surprise show. This was the first he was hearing of any kind of invitation. But Kaarep spoke firmly, and the look in his eyes as he met Thrawns gaze had just a slight edge, maybe even challenge to it.

Thrawn clasped his hands in front of him. “Given the extraordinary circumstances, and commander Bridger's previous assistance to this ship, without which we would not have survived any attack either, I am willing to put aside the conflict he and the Empire have been a part of.” The admirals smile looked sincere enough, but his eyes were just a bit smug. Ezra might almost think he wanted this arrangement; but then the blue bastard always looked smug. “If he will intern give his word of good faith as we deal with this new crisis.”

“Wouldn't dream otherwise,” the young jedi gave him a pointed, false smile. “An agreement can only last as long as everyone in it trusts each other; even a hint of foul playcould put us back at each others throats.”

The admiral nodded. “I suppose we will have to watch ourselves to avoid any misunderstandings then.”

Ezra grinned wider, showing teeth. “Yep, we'll have to watch _real_ closely.”

Kaarep clapped his hands, clasping them. “Ii beilieve we haave beigun aan iimportaant aagreement today, though tiime wiill tell how much waas aaccompliished. Now, aafter thiis tiiring day iin whiich we haave aall escaaped deastruction, Ii asnd my guessts wiill taake our leaive; thaat we miight both rest aand prepaare for our journey. Ii wiill send you thee daataa for thee jump, aand thee messaages left by thee former Iimperiiaal fleet, wiithiin the hour.”

“Our thanks,” Thrawn nodded in a partial bow. “Then we shall speak again at our destination. In the mean time, good night.”

Kaarep bowed in that open palmed way again, then turned to the door. Ezra, the other Murelani, and Kind shuffled out into the hangar after him. The ambassador walked at a steady, untroubled pace. But when the jedi touched his guarded mind, just lightly, it was whirling with thought.

Ezra was last out the door. Turning back, he gave Thrawn and the frowning Imperials a grin, and a casual wave goodbye.  
  


* * *

 

Alone in the admiral's office, Pelleaon, Faro, and Thrawn met to review notes.

"Alright," Faro sank into a chair. "What did we miss?" Of course, she and Pelleaon had heard every word of the meeting; but with Thrawn, there was usually another layer to any discourse.

"Those insects, the 'Kind'," Pelleaon pushed. "You recognized them, didn't you sir?"

"Yes," Thrawn nodded. "Tell me captain, what do you know of the Killik species?"

"I have heard of them, a race of extinct alien beings believed to have predated the old republic. Alderaan was thought to have been there home world, if I remember right. I believe I've heard that they inspired some alderaanian art."

"Some of their most famous works, yes," the admiral leaned back in his chair, hands clasped. "The Killik disappeared from the known galaxy some 30,000, leaving behind nothing but the hive like structures they built on Alderaan. Their disappearance was believed to have been caused by a conflict with other pre-republic civilizations."

"And now we've found them," Faro shook her head in disbelief. "They disappeared from Alderaan and wound up all the way out here!"

"Not exactly," Thrawn shook his head. "Although hardly anyone in Imperial space is aware of this, the main population of Killik in this day and age reside in the Unknown Regions, in the galaxies western expanse." He nodded at their surprised stares. "As I have previously told you, I was involved in several exploratory missions into the Unknown Regions prior to my appointment as admiral."

"Yes sir," Pelleaon replied evenly. Like everyone else on the _Chimaera_ , he had also heard the rumors regarding Thrawn's relationship to wild space. "So the Killik evidently traveled to both extreme ends of the galaxy?"

"Yes, and apparently they were not unaffected by it," Thrawn rubbed his chin red eyes narrowing in thought. "Among their worlds in the west, the Killik live in a society of multiple hives, interspersed with each other. If their population here is made up of only one, it would not be surprising to find they have a culture significantly different from that which I have encountered before."

"And there is  _no_  doubt that they are the same species," Faro interjected "And not just another race of mindless bugs?" She didn't sound like she really doubted it, but habitually brought up the contrarian point.

"Doubtful," Thrawn replied. "One of the unique traits of the Killik is that virtually all proper nouns in their language are palindromic. That this hive calls itself 'Turut' seems to be too big of a coincidence." The admiral's eyes narrowed to slits. "And yet they call the planet . Had it already been named by others before their arrival perhaps?"

"Very interesting," Faro spoke with as much sarcasm as one could to a superior "But I think we need to get back on a more important subject. Like the Imperial fleet that supposedly came through here."

"That should be our priority," Pelleaon nodded. "we must find a way back to Imperial space with all possible speed, not get involved in some aliens war. With respect, admiral, this agreement you've made is puts us in a very dangerous situation!"

"Indeed," The admiral leaned back in his chair, starring past his to subordinates. "Yet I can't see any viable alternative. In the state we are in, neither our ship nor supplies would last long enough for use to reach home, even if we had a clear route. We must secure resources, and no small amount of technical assistance, to get ourselves back to fighting shape."

"No one's going to be happy about letting a bunch of giant rodents poking around the ship," Faro grimaced. "They'll likely break up more of the engines then they'll fix."

Thrawn was silent for a moment, before fixing his gaze on the two of them. "What was your opinion of our new allies?"

Pelleaon and Faro exchanged glances, both sensing there would be right and wrong answers to this. "From what I could saw, their ship was of a quality comparable to Imperial standards," Pelleaon responded cautiously. "Though their weapons seem lower powered."

"Likely a result of lesser necessity," Thrawn was likely thinking out loud. "The Vahetey, however, wielded weapons of equal power to our, for their size. The result of a more aggressive culture perhaps, or proof to the theory that they made contact with the previous Imperial fleet." His gaze shifted to Faro. "Your thoughts commander?"

"I don't think we have to worry about them being any threat," she replied. "That Carp person seems to think we can just fly in and save him from these invaders. We could probably get a deal for just about any supplies and information we need, without any real commitment."

Thrawn looked at them both for a moment, reclined with fingers steepled. The look was vaguely disappointed. "That  _Kaarep_ , is a being we will need to watch." He said finally, looking away again. "He wants to use us to protect his people, but he's approaching us with his eyes open. I suspect his pleas will ask us for instruction and technological advantages, as much as direct assistance. We will have to move cautiously. Give him too much and we lose our ability to make demands, not enough, and he may hold back his own aid. Time is against us, we will grow more dependent on help the longer we go without it."

"Perhaps we could try negotiating a bit more aggressively," Faro sounded as frustrated as Pelleaon was starting to feel. "What with out star destroyer, stormtroopers, and a few squadrons of TIE Defenders."

"We no little about their size, and extent of their own forces," Thrawn replied. ""They may be able to subdue us with numbers, and then  _demand_  what they want. And if these Vahetey, continue to expand, and do so quickly, They may begin to overrun Murelani space before we can secure everything we need. Another thing we must consider, as we chose what to give them."

“Bridger is another factor we must consider,” Pelleaon spoke up. “As long as he remains among the Murelani, he'll try to turn them against us. We must find a way to isolate him from these people, and I do not think he told them that _he_ was the one responsible for our coming here.”

“I'm certain he didn't,” Thrawn agreed. “But exposing him as being dishonest may not be enough to discredit his opinion of us. And he did something during the attack to earn a measure of appreciation. If the Murelani witnessed even a fraction of the power we've seen him wield, they likely wouldn't pass up the opportunity to bring him into their side; hoping to use him regardless of if he is trustworthy. Hopefully, learned distrust of the Empire will prompt him to view any agreement between us and the Murelani as a risk of making the latter vulnerable to Imperial exploitation; which should galvanize his heroic impulses, and make him quick to align himself with them. If not, I will have to endeavor to plant the idea in his mind, though not radically enough to push him toward violence.”

"Excuse me sir," Pelleaon spoke up incredulously. "Are you planning to  _encourage_  the jedi to befriend these aliens?"

"We spoke recently about how young Bridger may act now that he is cut off from his surrogate family, and has little to lose," the admiral clasped his hands. "Now that he has been taken in by the Murelani, the jedi seems to be falling back into the role of a self-appointed protector. A relationship that is comfortingly familiar for him; and also very predictable. And it would do no harm if he is pulled into this new war to such an extent that we become the lesser threat in his eyes."

"Playing with the jedi seems like it would be a very . . . ill-advised plan sir," Faro grimaced.

Thrawn nodded. "Quite possibly, but we have no options that do not entail risk. And there are too many unknown factors for us to determine which is the surest course yet."

"A squad of stormtroopers with orders to kill might get some pretty sure results."

"And may greatly jeopardize any chance we have of securing aid from the natives," Thrawn glared at her. "Who seem to have taken a liking to him. For the moment, we would be best suited to hold back any confrontation."

"So we're going with the Murelani," Pelleaon wasn't really asking.

"Yes," the admiral rose from his chair. "Commander, prep the ship for hyperspace. Ensure that navigation has checked and double checked everything on the data the Murelani gave us, and that it is properly integrated into the nav computer. Captain, compile a report on the progress of repairs from the battle, and a complete evaluation of our combat capabilities. With as many surprises as we have seen already, I want the  _Chimaera_  to be at the highest possible readiness when we arrive at our destination."

 

* * *

 

“Ii hope thiis wiill do,” Kaarep gestured to the cruiser guestroom they had entered. It was probably about the nicest room Ezra had ever been an (invited) guest in. Blackish-blue walls somehow looked soft, and the lighter hued blue ceiling, furnishings, and carpeted floor appeared even more so in the gentle light of the silver ceiling lamp. The neatly made bed looked good enough to sink into, and a try of food on the dark wooden desk smelled a lot better than what the average spacer was used to.

“It's perfect,” Ezra grinned as he looked around, tempted to curl up on the carpet right their. “If this is how you treat your guests, I could get used to it.”

The smile disappeared as he turned to look the Murelani in the eye directly. “What you said to Thrawn, about promising to protect me. You meant it, didn't you?”

Kaarep nodded, his gaze hard with resolve. “Ii meant eivery word, iincluding thee greait debt my people, aand Ii personaally, owe you. Ii do not know iif thee aadmiiraal wiill be wiilling to touleraate you waalking free. But iif he should truy to contest thee iissue, he wiill paay aa consiiderable priice.

“Thrawn is a dangerous enemy to have,” Ezra warned, even though all he wanted to do was pat the little being on the shoulder.

“He iis iin aa very daangeirous siituation. But do not be to quiick to thaank me,” the aliens gray face slipped in to a sad, almost fearful look, ears drooping back. “One reason for my helping you, iis because Ii beliave Ii wiill haave to aask you to help me, aand my people, very soon. Ii maay aask you to taake greater riisks thaan aany Ii haave, aand Ii caan giive you liittle reiason to do so.”

Ezra set his jaw, and steeled his gaze. “I'll never need a reason to help a friend.”

Kaarep smiled, though it was still sad. “Ii hope Ii wiill prove worthy of thaat kiind of trust. But, iit iis growing laate. Eet, reist, and clear your miind. Ii wiill haave soume questions for you iin thee morning. Aand Ii would liike to know how iit waas thaat you saaved us from deastruction today.”

“Have you heard of something called the Force,” Ezra asked?

The Murelani was silent for a minute, ears perking back up thoughtfully. “Ii haave heard, from tiime to tiime, of aa power lying beitween thee worlds of thee gaalaaxy, or peirhaaps wiithiin them. Ii understaand iit haas maany naames. But, we caan diiscuss iit laater. Good niight Ezra Bridger, aand sleap well.”

After he left, Ezra sat down at the desk to eat. Even though he was starving he ate slowly, savoring the first real food he'd had since coming to this strange corner of the galaxy. He slipped out of of his grimy, blood-stained, sand covered clothes and slipped into the adjoining refresher room; scrubbing himself down in the wonderfully normal hot water.

Sinking onto the bed and slipping under the soft covers, Ezra pulled his mind into a near-trance state, which would draw on the Force to make him well and rested again by morning. His mind open to the living Force around him, he fell asleep to the soft singing of the great kyber crystal siting in the cargo hold; and the steady hum of the other crystal used in the cruisers own engines, smaller, but alive with the energy of the ship.

Outside, the cruisers engines flared brightly for a moment, before it vanished with a leap into hyperspace. A moment later, the great shape of the star destroyer followed.

 

 

**Hopefully the next chapter will be up much sooner. Please REVIEW, that will probably help!**

 

**SPOILERS FOR ' _THRAWN ALLIANCES_ ': Some people said they thought my story was compatible with the newest book, but there are two glaring things that would bother me if I tried to say it was. First, it is established that Force users can guide ships through unexplored space; that would mean Ezra is the _Chimaera_ 's only real chance of getting home, and Thrawn should be trying to keep him handcuffed to his wrist. Second, if the Chiss Ascendancy is being threatened by a civil war _and_ foreign invasion, then Thrawn should be trying to beat it back to that part of the Unknown Regions; not be loitering around my new part, as he will.**

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, I have no excuse for how long this took. Sure there was the holiday season, and a few major family events, but I can't pretend procrastination and writers block weren't big parts of it. Hopefully it will be worth the wait.**

  


"Five days you say," Lieutenant commander Sesden rubbed his double chins in thought. "That is some time for a single hyperspace jump."

"And I am told it is considered a moderate one for this region of space," Captain Pellaeon replied. They both sat in the captain's office, as the commander appraised him of their current supply situation. "We have apparently come far enough out to the edge of the galaxy that stars begin to thin out, and you find significantly less systems per parsec then you would in the center of the galaxy, or even the Outer Rim."

"Quite the wilderness," Sesden muttered. "And we must wait at least that long to resupply?"

"Probably longer, actually," Pellaeon explained with a sigh. "This Kaarep fellow apparently wanted to make a side trip before taking use to his world. We are currently bound for some system that is home to yet another alien species, this one on friendly terms with the Murelani. The " _Fulkoom_ ", or something like that. Our new friends have evidently decided that they should be warned that the Vahetey have begun to penetrate this far from their homeworld. Apparently this system is closer to it than the one we left, so the Murelani feel some urgency."

"Mmmh," the chin stroking continued, before the commander looked back up. "In terms of food supplies captain, we should be fine for the next three weeks. That is assuming we continue the tighter rations initiated since we first got here. The water recycler is still functioning perfectly, so we will have no shortage for the forceable future." The man half-grinned in an attempt at levity. "I am afraid we may need to begin rationing soap soon though, and loosen our current regulations on stubble."

Pellaeon mentally braced himself for some really bad news. "And repairs?"

The half-grin wavered. "It would be best if we try to avoid any engagements until further notice," Sesden replied. "Major Harch could give you more of the specifics, but as long as her techs are running double shifts she feels the need to do the same. To say it plainly, we are down to our last reserves on all materials, from wiring to durasteel. If any other holes were torn into our hull, we wouldn't be able to do much more than slap a patch over it. My engineers may be ably to cannibalize something from our non-essential systems, but nothing that can make up for truly serious damage."

"Well, if that is the reality, then we shall have to work with it," Pellaeon nodded to the supply officer. "You have done a remarkable job commander; you, Harch, and all your combined techs and crews. I want you to give the entirety of our engineering and supply compliments my deepest thanks for the work they are carrying out; what they have accomplished under these impossible circumstances seems to me to be nothing short of a miracle!"

Sesden sat up just a little straighter in his chair. "Thank you sir."

Pellaeon picked up a datapad the commander had left on his desk, and began to scroll through it, skimming a thorough report of the ships status. "I would like you to compile a priority list of everything we are in most dire need of. When we finally reach somewhere we can get repairs and supplies, I want us to be able to begin as quickly as possible."

"Very good sir," the commanders gaze had lost focus, and he was probably already mentally tallying a list of items. "Will there be anything else."

After a moment of thought, Pellaeon nodded. "I want to be appraised whenever we are close to critical lows on any supply or item, including those normally considered non-essential. We don't know what might prove important in this odyssey we're trapped in."

"In that case, I suppose I should mention captain," the commander gave him a pointed look. "That with so many crewmen working round the clock, we have been burning through our caf supply rather quickly. It is being rationed now that we have noticed, but even so we will soon use it up."

"Hmf," Pellaeon half-snorted through his mustache. "On top of everything else. Still, if the sim-caf is good enough for the enlisted men, I suppose we officers can get used to it."

Sesden grimaced. "I was referring to the sim-caf, sir."

 

* * *

 

Ezra choked out a string of barely recognizable syllables, wincing as he did so. In a chair across from him, Kaarep raised an eyebrow, ears tipped forward in a way that somehow seemed amused. "Yes, Ii'd bie haappy to taake you to thie nearest _flower gaarden_."

The young jedi groaned, rubbing one palm against his forehead in frustration. While stuck onboard the Murelani cruiser, the _Baaltaak_ , the two of them had started having regular language lessons, during the uneventful days of hyperspace. Kaarep was doing his best to master basic, in preparation for whatever alliance or manipulation he was hoping to pull on the Imperials. Ezra had been interested in learning Murelani; and the ambassador had insisted he also needed to learn Tek Po, a trade language used by many different beings throughout !.

It was a frustrating business; Kaarep only had to practice and refine a language he already had a basic knowledge of, while Ezra had to learn two from scratch. He wasn't having too hard of a time when it was spoken _to_ him; all his life he'd never had much trouble understanding what another being was trying to say, something he now knew was thanks to the Force. Talking _back_ , that was harder. He could project his thoughts into another beings mind if he really tried; but that was an unreliable trick, and he wasn't quite comfortable with the fact that it required a technique alot like mind control. So, he was making a serious effort to learn. "If we keep this up, I might teach you some words in basic they probably don't include in the translation dictionaries."

"You aare doing very well," the alien assured him. "Most beiings your aage don't taake so quiickly to new laanguages."

"Well I have had quite a bit of practice for the last few years," Ezra shrugged. "In the rebellion I met people from every corner of the galaxy. I had to learn about fifty different ways to say "Take Cover"!"

"Peaople who were members, or bystaanders?"

"Well, both."

"How diid your rebellion form?" Kaarep sounded a bit like he'd been waiting for an oppurtunity to ask that. "Ii do not meaan your team, but thie greater Aalliiance, how waas iit possiible?"

They often paused the lessons for talks like this; usually the Murelani oh so casually interrogating him about the Empire, and all the reasons beings rebelled against it. Ezra was only too eager to go into the long list of Imperial atrocities, particularly those perpetrated by Thrawn, or at least his troops. He couldn't tell what the alien was really taking away from this. "Well, like I said, there were rebel groups all over the galaxy. When Mon Mothma declared that we needed to form one rebellion they all came together, though some took awhile to do it."

"You saaid thiis Mothmaa waas aa senaator," Kaarep stroked his beardlike fur. "Were aany of thie others?"

"A lot of the high command was," Ezra thought back. "Bail Organa was the other big voice for a unified alliance, he and Mothma had worked with each other back in the Clone Wars, when it was the Republic Senate."

"Yeis, you mentioned thaat maany of your rebels fought iin thie "clone" waar. Iincluding your maaster aand thie other jedii."

"Yah, and Ahsoka had met both Mothma and Organa because of what she did in the war." Half the Alliance all seemed to have known each other from what they did before the Republic fell. Rex, Saw, Dodonna, and others Ezra had only met a few times. He actually didn't want to talk that much about the Alliance, it brought to mind all the people he had left behind. He'd spent almost two weeks trying not to think about it too much.

"So thie Aaliiance waas created from the fraamework of thie Republiic. Thie tiies between iits leaders were aalready iin plaace."

"I guess you could say that."

"Ii waas wondering iif you miight be able to tell mie something aabout thie Old Republiic," Kaarep said. "Thie Iimperiaals spoke only aabout its faall. Do you know much aabout thie rest of iits' hiistory?"

"Um, not really," Ezra shrugged. "I've never studied history that much, even in my jedi lessons; right now always seems to take up most of my time. Besides, isn't the Empire a little more important?"

"Yes, but Ii waas raather curiious aabout thie Republiic," the Murelani replied. "There haas never been such aan aalliance of worlds out here in thie !. Ii fiind iit iinteresting to wonder how one would bie governed."

"Apparently not very well, since Palpatine was able to take over," Ezra replied. "But did I really say _flower garden_?"

"You probaably miisspronounced thie word you meant, thie order of the vowels chaanges thie . . . .

 

* * *

 

Thrawn paused the display, leaning back in his chair. He had been watching the recording the Murelani had given, left to them by a previous Imperial task-force. The admiral clasped his hand in his lap as he gazed at the still face of the blue uniformed director.

_The "Outbound" Expiditionary Fleet,_ Thrawn thought to himself. _And they say Palpatine has no sense of humor._

He had never heard of this secret Imperial project, or it's Director, and neither had anyone in the crew. They had already sifted through all the files contained in the ships systems, and found no mention of it. First the main records, then the restricted ISB files, then the high command files only accessible to flag officers, then the secondary ISB files Thrawn was fairly certain flag officers like himself were not supposed to know about or ever be able to access. Nothing.

It really wasn't all that surprising. Even the main computer of a ship the size of a star destroyer would be strained to keep a record of every officer in the vast imperial military and government A star destroyer normally maintained a link to the extended Imperial network, and was automatically relayed all relevant data for the region of the Empire they were in. And even that usually had to be limited to the most up-to-date records; anything as far back as a decade would have to be specifically requested.

Thrawn remained still in though for a moment, then he reached over and changed the display. The Imperial message was replaced by another image sent by the Murelani.

They had been having a drawn out and rudimentary conversation, during the journey through hyperspace. Apparently the world they had left, Karissa, produced naturally occurring crystals with properties useful for energy conduction. The Kind had a monopoly on the trade of these crystals; but with their simplistic lifestyle, they had no use for conventional wealth. The treasure they asked for, instead, was art.

Thrawn steepled his fingers as he gazed at the work the Murelani had offered. It was a tapestry, but so finally made in detail that it could almost be mistaken for a painting. The woven material, and antiquated tableau, harkened back to an ancient time. It was a modern work though; the detail was simply too fine, too regular and perfect. Machine tooled, regardless of whatever millennia old tradition it was a tribute to.

The admiral studied the masterpiece as intently as he had any enemy formation. Its beauty, from the graceful lines of the ships to the vibrant colors of the waves, was the most obvious factor consciously worked into its design; a celebration of the joy in life and nature. But there were other features of more subtle importance. The white crests of the waves, and their size and height. The nonuniform tilt of the different craft, as the seas shook them. And subtleties of the body language in the figures onboard; ears often pricked up, stances braced against the roll of the ships.

_Danger_. That was one of the most prominent of the themes unconsciously worked into this piece. That the beautiful world around them concealed a more threatening nature. It would have been a fact of life in the more primitive times this tapestry depicted; and the clarity and seamlessness with which it was conveyed here suggested it was something still present in the cultural mind.

_A normal fear of the unknown, reacting to the discomfort most have with ignorance?_ Thrawn pondered. _Or a learned aversion, based on relatively recent experiences?_ He would have to collect more works, including from the other species of this region, to be able to make more certain judgements.

Thrawn's reverie was interrupted by a soft chime from his office door. On command, captain Pellaeon entered, datapads in hand. He gave the admiral a brief rundown of the the repair progress, and the state of their supplies. The chiss officer gave no reaction to either the good or bad news, simply nodding at the end. "Sixty-five percent combat readiness you say?"

"Yes admiral," the captain nodded gravely. "And that is assuming repairs proceed on schedule the entire time until we reach this _Ae'long'n_ system we're heading too. But you have the personal assurances of both myself and the senior officers that they will!"

"Of that I have no doubt," Thrawn nodded. "In part, because circumstances give them ample motivation too. The recent attacks highlight that our survival depends on defensive capabilities. On top of that, this ship represents a powerful link to the "normal" world we have become separated from, one which the crew will surely become even more attached to then they already are. Preserving it will become a comforting drive. "

Pellaeon wasn't sure how to respond to that, vaguely annoyed at the somewhat pessimistic view of the crews motivation. "If I may be blunt sir, whatever latent motivations they may have for maintaining discipline, our crewmen and officers are in a very dangerous position," the captain spoke quietly but firmly. "We must strive to maintain their confidence in the chain of command, and we officers personally. That's another powerful piece of normalcy they will look to as long as we're stuck out here, and we must do every thing we can to reinforce it."

Thrawn did not respond for a moment; a distracted look that had been lingering on him the entire conversation now slipping away, as he look toward the captain with a new attention. "Well said captain, you are keeping a firm grasp on the human factor of our situation."

"Our first objective will have to be resupplying sir," Pellaeon glanced at the display of alien art. "Have you created a plan for leveraging support from the Murelani?"

"The beginnings of one," Thrawn stood from his chair. "I know you haven't had time to review the communications we've been having with Kaarep. Apparently as a "Jaan-taik" he is the governor of a Murelani colony world, directly appointed by the "Jaan-Maia," their queen. He administers a relatively new colony, on a world still largely un-tainted by settlement. This should give us a good chance of securing what we need by pressuring him directly, rather than having to make further applications to their government. Food and other essentials for the crew will likely be no problem. But, repairing the ship will be another matter; and even if the Murelani are agreeable, their technology and resources may not be up to the task."

"You still intend to make some kind of bargain then," Pelleaon had to ask? "Have you considered that if that should fail, a more . . _forceful_ approach might be necessary, sir?"

"Considering all the factors captain, I do not see how we have any chance of returning to Imperial space without help," Thrawn shook his head. "Demanding tribute from those along our path would likely result in conflict, sooner or later, and even if we encounter no one force able to withstand us, we will be whittled down long before we could reach home." He shook his head. "We must try negotiation first and foremost, trade if that fails. I can't very well conquer a quarter of the galaxy with one ship."

He stared at the holodisplay for a fem moments more, and the captain waited dutifully before he resumed. "When we arrive at our destination captain, the ship is to drop out of hyperspace in full battle readiness. All weapons and shields are to be powered to maximum, and fighters will stand by ready to launch."

"You anticipate danger," Pelleaon tensed as ideas ran through his head. "Do you think the aliens are deceiving us."

"No," Thrawn replied calmly. "I see nothing to indicate any betrayal. But we are walking almost blind through a foreign environment, and one miss-step will end it all. We will maintain the highest levels of preparedness for this and every other arrival we make into an unknown system." Thrawn frowned slightly in thought. "We will have to be careful that we foster an atmosphere of preparedness, not fear. Constant anxiety may be the final breaking point for some members of our crew; but familiar and constant combat routines may be just the reinforcement they need."

 

* * *

 

Ezra sat on the bed in his cabin, legs bent underneath him with hands of thighs as he meditated. He had been a little afraid to try and enter into the Force now that he didn't have healing to distract him. Worried he'd see nothing but memories, the things he'd left behind. But he didn't. The Force washed over him like some kind of cleansing wave, pushing away his worries for a short time. He tried to go through at least the basic jedi exercises every day, both mental and physical. He had to go to the cargo bay for enough room to do the calisthenics; presence of the the kyber crystal was like a pleasant background music. It was even kind of funny how the crewmembers would oh so casually walk by, checking to see if the strange alien was going to do anymore magic.

After an hour or two (it was hard to keep track of time going by) the young jedi began to see a clear image. He was hurtling through space, with a bright pulsing light at his back, and there was single planet in front of him. A strange green and red world, with three pearl like moons hanging off it, it grew rapidly in his path. As he got closer, Ezra began to make out small lights, like the one behind him, scattered above the planet's surface. There were dozens, maybe even a couple hundred, and they blinked so erratically it seemed like some kind of distress call. It took him a moment to realize that slowly, one at a time, they were winking out.

Springing to his feet, Ezra summoned the com disc into his hand before he touched the ground. "Kaarep! We're about to fly into a lothwolf den."

He was already out the door and racing toward the cockpit when the hesitant reply came. "Whaat!? Ezraa, whaat aare you saaying?"

"I don't know," the jedi vaulted over a pair of Murelani dragging some kind of crate through the passageway, barely breaking stride. "But something is wrong in the system we're going to, we're flying into danger!" He gritted his teeth, hating what he was about to say. "Get Thrawn on the comms!"

"Their iis no tiim-," But Ezra had burst through the bridge door before Kaarep could finish that thought. There was the ambassador, the captain, and the standard crew, all staring at him in alarm, ears pricked straight up. And the next second after he entered, the stream of stars in the viewport froze, and dissappeared into an image of normal space. An image that was filled by a red and green planet, and a fleet of warships.

Dozens of ships, of different shapes and sizes, were hurling volleys of lazer fire at each other. In one instant Ezra saw a round vahetey attack ship burst into flames; the next, another ship get disintigrated by a swarm of Vahetey fighters. Gasps and wails erupted from around the bridge, followed by the wine of alarms. Kaarep barked out orders, and Ezra had learned enough to recognize "Shields" and "weapons!"

The nearest ship, another round Vahetey cruiser, was already turning to bare on them. Swooping in like a Lothhawk, it unleashed beams of laser fire, battering the Murelani cruiser as it tried to raise it's shields. Their pilot hit the engines and took them into a steep, curving dive, but the Vahetey nimbly moved to match, and the sensors flashed orange with target locks as it closed in-

And was struck by a lance of green fire. Just behind and above the Murelani, the _Chimaera_ had dropped out of hyperspace with shields raised and weapons firing. A well practiced barrage sent the Vahetey cruiser spiraling away in flames, and star destroyer was already trading shots with another round ship and a large, wedgeshaped cruiser that had followed the first ship. The com light flashed at the helm, and Kaarep, who had taken his seat in the second row, barked at the co-pilot to answer.

"This is Thrawn," came the calm and terse message. "What can you tell me about the situation we've arrived at?"

Kaarep stumbled toward the com, as the cruiser flew under the _Chimaera_ 's protective shadow. "Thie Vahetey haave moved faaster then our worse fears," he replied. "Wiith so maany shiips . . thiis iis no siimple raid, their iinvaading thiis system. Ii must try to contaact those Ii know on thie plaanet to learn how thie baattle goes!"

"We appear to have dropped out right on the left end of the Vahetey formation, almost behind it," Thrawn's reply came. "Actually an ideal position for attacking their flank, if we had more substantial firepower. As it is, we must move quickly before the attackers respond to our arrival and cut us off from aid. In moments the _Chimaera_ will make a micro jump toward the small orbital body thirty degrees to our left, its gravity should be sufficient to pull us out of a hastily navigated jump. We'll be far enough planetward to have a much better chance coordinating with the defenders."

"Yeis, thaat . . sounds wiise," Kaarep nodded hesitantly. Ezra didn't blame him. Looking out the viewport at the constantly moving mess of ships, it was hard to see anything as simple as what Thrawn was describing. The Vahetey warships were so mixed with the defenders that it took a moment to notice that there were more Vahetey then friendlies in their immediate area. They could see the moon the admiral was refering to, but Ezra wasn't sure they actually had a clear shot to it through all the chaos.

"Be ready to follow behind us," Thrawn instructed before signing of. The _Chimaera_ was still trading shots with the Vahetey ships immediately around it, and more seemed to be moving in. The captain was barking orders to the pilots, probably having them prepare their own jump calculation, as Kaarep worked worked furiously at the communications controls, trying to get a signal to whoever he knew on the planet. Suddenly the star destroyer was gone, leapt into the psuedo motion of hyperspace. Ezra spied it reappear at nearly the same instant, next to the tiny moon on the other side of the swarm of warships. There was almost a pause in the battle around them, as the sudden disappearance of the massive ship tripped their attackers up for a moment.

For that one second the Murelani cruiser was totally exposed amid a circle of Vahetey, then the pilot flipped the lever and they launched into their own micro jump. It reminded Ezra a little of when he and Commander Sato had been pulled out of hyperspace by an Imperial interdictor, only much faster. The moon's gravity was in their path almost the second they jumped, so as soon as the stars were stretched out into beams of light the image was distorted by blinding flashes of pale red; and then they were back in real space, the ship rocking and drifting away from the orbital body.

Thrown violently against the straps of his chairs harness, his stomach turning a roll as they flew clear, Ezra was suddenly hit by a tremor in the Force. Leaping out of the chair he pushed his way through the startled Murelani to crowd against the viewport. The battle was on their right, the mass of ships still engaged in what looked to him like a giant free-for-all. To the right of that, a series of large, wedgeshaped ships, like the one that had attacked the _Chimaera_ , were rising from the planets surface, in a long, drawn out line.

But what drew Ezra's attention was the single cruiser that was flying up from the planet's surface, on a course to pass almost in front of them. It was an odd ship; an extended oval shape, with a hull that was an odd patchwork of brown and green colors, marred by warped and blackened marks of laser and missile hits. It was taking even more damage, under a hail of fire from at least half a squadron of Vahetey fighters on it's tail.

"Kaarep," Ezra pointed out the viewscreen. "There's something special about that ship!"

"You're riight," the aliens ears fell back when he saw it, an expression of despair. He jammed on his com controls again, speaking so rapidly that the jedi couldn't recognize a word he said. The response was in a strangly light, almost musical warble, that reminded Ezra of a Lothlark.

"Iit's aa counselors shiip, caarrying one of thie worlds seniior most Nest-mothers," Kaarep explained, leaning a little more heavily against the controls as his ears drooped back even farther. "The Vahetey have already begun landing their armies, and the Fulkoom fear they will lose the planet."

As they watched, one of the Vahetey fighters was hit by return fire from the cruiser, and spiraled away. But at the same instant, a burst of fire spewed from the cruisers port side and it began to fall behind as the nimble fighters closed in.

Kaarep barked something at the crew, and Ezra was pretty sure he heard "Iimperiaal" in it. The pilots looked back in surprise, and the captain began to protest; but Kaarep ordered it again. The pilots turned back to their controls in a frenzy, and the ships hesitantly lurched forward, then hit its thrusters and leaped on a course toward the dieing cruiser.

Ezra stumbled to grab the wall next to Kaarep, trying to put on a brave face. "Rescue mission? Do you plan to fall in behind the fighters, or hit then in a pass?"

Kaarep glanced at him, ears twitching nervously. "You've done thiis more thaan Ii haave, Ii see," He glanced at the sensores. "Wie aare siignaalling thie Iimperiaals to aask for aiid, but wie may bie thie only help thaat caan reach them iin tiime!"

_Calling the Empire for help!_ Ezra was certain he could feel his skin crawl a little just at the thought; but he didn't have any other ideas.

_Actually . . ._

 

* * *

 

Thrawn calmly surveyed the panorama of battle before him. Repositioned with the moon to its back, the Chimaera was poised to face whatever attack the Vahetey would send next.

Though they didn't seem inclined to send anything.

To their right, the unfolding brawl of warships dominated most of space. In front of them, and to the left, a trail of the larger cruisers evidently employed by the Vahetey bulk freighters were rising from the surface of the planet.

_Transports_ , the admiral concluded, recalling how surprisingly lightly armed and armored for it's size the one they had exchanged fire with had proved to be. Each would be able to hold a significant number or ground troops or armed vehicles; and he could count seven just within his sight now. _This is not likely any kind of raid en mass, the Vahetey are invading and occupying this world._ His knowledge of regional galactic geography was to poor for him to begin to anticipate how the fall of this particular planet would impact the local balance of power; or the Empires new "allies" the Murelani.

With their unloading presumably complete, the wedge shaped cruisers were not just returning to space, but actively joining the battle. _Reckless, to the point of stupidity_. It seemed a cultural imperative of this species to attack, at all times.

Except that the _Chimaera_ was not being attacked. The moon was many kilometers away from the battle (a sign of the possible inexperience or incompetence of the defending commanders, who missed a chance to anchor one end of their battle line on a highly defendable point), but that wasn't a very significant distance in space. And yet the Vahetey were paying the star destroyer little mind, as they continued their merciless assault on the native forces, the Fulkoom. An obsession to never disengage with an enemy, even when another arrives? Or a cultural blindspot, overlooking passive threats?

All this observation and pondering lasted only a few moments, as the _Chimaera_ and it's crew shook of the effects of their microjump. By the time Captain Pellaeon completed his quick review of the ship, and approached his commander, the red eyed admiral was already working on something on his datapad.

"What now admiral?" Pellaeon fought to keep his tone calm.

"Ready the heavy lasers," Thrawn instructed him. "On my command they will take precise shots at the Vahetey. The distance should not be too great to inflict damage."

"You have a plan," Pelleaon asked hopefully?

"Perhaps," the admiral continued to work on his datapad. "Though this will be testing a theory."

"Admiral," Faro spoke up from the crew pit below them. "We're receiving a signal from the _Baaltaak_! They're jumping into the fight, and want us to help!"

Thrawn looked down at her sharply "The cruiser itself is engaging the Vahetey?"

"Not the main battle sir," the commander peered up from the screen where the message was translating to basic. "A single native cruiser is trying to flee the planet, the Murelani seem to think it's important!"

Thrawn creased his brow deeply, a gesture that for him was the equivalent of most beings grinding their teeth, as he spotted the small action she was referring to. "Signal commander Bas to launch four of his Defenders to support them." The admiral was loath to deploy the precious fighters so soon in this unknown situation, but the small engagement didn't appear to be any challenge for the lethal ships.

Focusing back on the wider battle, Thrawn nodded to Pelleaon, and the gunnery officers below him. "Fire".

Emerald beams of turbolaser fire shot out from the heavy batteries to either side of the command tower. In the space of a second they hit the broad side of a Vahetey transport cruiser, which was exchanging shots with a _Fulkoom_ ship on it's other side. At the admiral's signal, the firing continued. The cruiser must have had the majority of it's shields focused toward the closer enemy, as it did not take long for the beams to punch through and begin to pierce the ships hull.

"Admiral," Lieutenant Lomar's voice rose from a crewpit. "We're being hailed."

Their commander was already striding down toward them. "That would be the defenders," he stated casually. "On small speaker."

The incoming message proved to be a series of bizarre alien sounds that seemed more like bird calls then sentient speech. Thrawn ordered it be played back a second time; then with a shake of his head, handed the datapad he'd been working on to Lomar. "Transmit this back along the same signal, and try and identify which ship the message came from."

Even after his past experiences under the admiral, Pelleaon was surprised. "You _understood_ that, sir?"

"Not at all," Thrawn shook his head. "I've prepared a pictogram illustrating a possible maneuver the defending forces might try. Hopefully the abstract images will be simple enough to not be confused by any language or culture barrier."

"With all do respect admiral," the captain pressed. "We are in no position to join a major battle; and even if we were, the tide seems to far against the defenders for us to make a difference."

"You are quite right captain," the chiss admiral nodded. "Without more intel on the combatants, I see no way the Vahetey invasion can be defeated. The best hope the defenders have, at this point, is to escape with some portion of their fleet intact."

 

* * *

 

The _Fulkoom_ ship was rocked by another explosion as a Vahetey laser struck true. With violent shudders and sputtering exhaust flairs it's engines gave out, tripping up its breakneck pace and sending it floating through space with no control. The remaining Vahetey fighters surged forward, like hawks swooping down on wounded prey, when the _Baaltaak_ reached them. Engines roaring and all guns blazing, the cruiser aimed straight for the center of their formation, destroying one by clipping their side on it, and sending the other six scattering out of the way.

The Vahetey were quick to recover though, and with a fire of their thrusters turned onto the _Baaltaak's_ tail, setting it in their sites. The Murelani cruiser kept charging forward on a straight course. When all the fighters were behind it the ship pulled up, pushing it's thrusters to the max as it made an extreme u-maneuver, putting it back on course the way it had come. For a few seconds that seemed to last for several minutes to the passengers, the full length of the _Baaltaak_ was exposed to the enemy lasers, gambling that their light weapons would not be able to pierce the ships shields so quickly. The Murelani gunners took out another fighter as they lurched back onto a straight course for the _Fulkoom_ ship. The Vahetey quickly pulled up their control sticks to keep on the _Baaltaak's_ tail, pouring laser fire on it as they closed the distance. The _Baaltaak_ banked away from the _Fulkoom_ ship at the last second, passing cleanly over it. The fighters easily matched the maneuver, and came out from behind the ship guns blazing.

The TIE Defenders struck, charging through them with lethal fire like arrows through a beast. Four were destroyed in the first pass, and the quick reactions of the survivors couldn't save them from the second.

With the last Vahetey fighters gone, the _Baaltaak_ coasted in to merge it's airlocks with the _Fulkoom_ cruiser. As soon as the hatches were airtight, a squad of Murelani crewmen swarmed through to evacuate the survivors. Ezra was with them, reaching out with the Force to hone in on the beings still alive. He was the only member of party not wearing an EVA suit, being too tall for the alien equipment, but still took the lead. Blocking out the distant howls of pain and anger from the battle, he sensed the frenzied fear of the remaining crew, as some of its members slipped helplessly into the afterlife. The sensation in the Force was like a brutal gust of wind, chilling you to the bone as you tried to wade through it. Ezra unfortunately had a great deal of practice in shielding his mind from the turmoil of a battle without dulling his senses, but it was more difficult with the sputtering star of Force energy on this ship.

It seemed Kyber crystals were part of the standard method of space travel in this region, and the Fulkoom ship had one singing at its center. With the generators and engines shot to hell it pulsed and spasmed rapidly with energy, like the failing heart of some dying beast. Ezra felt the hairs on his neck stand up, and prayed whatever equipment these ships used had plenty of fail-safes. He seen a Kyber crystal explosion at a distance before, and he'd never wanted to see one up close!

The first survivors were found in the ships main hallway, several beings struggling in vain to move a piece of broken ceiling that had fallen on one of their comrades. Without hesitating the jedi reached out and willed the twisted durosteel off the alien. An avian creature, with a crest of short spiky feathers running along its head and longer ones running down its arm, it cried in a piercing scream when the rescuers tried to pick it up; like someone blowing hard into a broken woodwind instrument. Its right leg hung limp and straight; which was probably unnatural judging by the double bend of its other leg.

The two different alien crews had a heated exchange as a shudder ran through the ship. From farther inside Ezra could hear the irregular labored thumps of the engines trying to start again. The conversation was going too fast for him to make out whet was being said, but the lead Murelani (he thought he'd heard his name was Saakic) shouted to his squad and they scattered, pushing their way through the knot of beings in the hallway to sprint off in every direction. Ezra was pulled farther down the corridor, as it shuddered with a low metallic grown. He sensed that the ship was flying into motion again, but it didn't feel like its own engines were running. Was the _Baaltaak_ maneuvering while they were still attached, and dragging them with it. That kind of flying was very dangerous, and Ezra had a bad feeling that something was happening in the larger battle to force Kaarep to take that risk. He would have put on a bit more speed, except he couldn't take the lead while he didn't know where they were going.

Their destination turned out to be the ships small medical bay, overflowed with patients from the attack. One avian in a suit of light purple was rushing around with a pair of helpers, strapping the most seriously wounded on small hovercarts. The newcomers were immediately put to work helping, and Ezra dove into the work with a will, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of pain in the room, and the line of beings already lost that had been laid out in one corner, a light tarp spread over them in the only gesture of respect the medics had time too make.

The rescuers helped evacuate the sedated patients to the _Baaltaak_ , rushing them down the passageways as fast as their conditions would allow. Ezra ended up pushing a broken hovercart, using the Force to hold it up as he rushed the two patients on it to safety. It took most of his concentration; with the Fulkook ship rocking as the _Baaltaak_ pulled it through space, and the hallways crowding with Murelani and Fulkoom crewmen. For the next quarter hour he helped the evacuation, though it felt far longer. Racing through corridors and dodging rubble, they pulled alien survivors off every corner of the ship, constantly moving at a frantic pace to save as many as they could. Ezra had no idea what was happening in the larger battle, all he could do was trust that someone was coming up with a plan to get them all out.

"EZRAA," a gruff voice caught his attention as he helped get anther group of survivors to the hatch, and he saw Saakic calling him from down the hall. The Murelani was with a staff wielding guard and a ! armed with a blaster, and they had all started running as soon as he saw them. "Neast Mothur," the guard panted as he caught up. "Laast on."

They ducked out of one of the main halls and weaving into a more cramp maintenance passage, and Ezra felt the a tremor in the Force like a pounding in his head as they reached the main engine room. Nestled among the maze of machine parts was the kyber crystal, a neatly cut chunk about the size of a curled up Loth-cat. Ripples of light ran chaotically across it's surface and crackled into the air, bleeding off energy like static discharge.

Three _Fulkoom_ worked around it, and the steady beat in Ezra's mind died as they shut down the engines and stopped the power transfer. With great care, two gloved aliens began to lift the crystal from its place, transferring it to a padded container.

Saakic called to one of the handlers, a taller _Fulkoom_ with reddish brown feathers that seemed to be going grey at the tips. Ezra had a feeling this was the important passenger, as she wore a green robe of intricate patterns that looked like it was probably pretty fancy before it'd gotten smeared with dirt and engine fluids.

Carefully closing the lid and fastening it tight, the _Fulkoom_ and her companion lifted it with a huff and began striding toward their rescuers. As fast as they could the little party made it's way back into the halls, now entirely empty, and rushed to be the final ones off. Ezra even thought they were going to make it, until another unreal wind sent a chill down his spine.

 

* * *

 

Whoever was in charge of the native defenses apparently excepted the logic of the admirals strategy, as just a few minutes after his message was sent a new movement suddenly became noticeable across the battlefield. The native ships began moving, first one, then two, then in three's and fours until the defender's were noticeably splitting into two groups. A growing number of ships broke away from the battle, coming together in a defensive formation where their overlapping fields of fire protected each other. The flotilla fought it's way clear of the enemy, setting a course directly for the _Chimaera_.

At first it seemed that some ships failed to reach the others in time, and where being left to their fate. But it became clear that the stragglers weren't making any effort to evade the enemy; instead, they were pressing the attack. Warship's that already had attackers engaging them on one or more sides deliberately flew into the range of other's, as if determined to draw as much fire as possible.

And it was working, if you could say that such an awful tactic _worked_. The Vahetey appeared to be utilizing little overall strategy, simply throwing their superior firepower at the nearest enemy. At first, those attacking the ship's now fleeing followed relentlessly, seemingly unphased by increased fire power of the defenders working in concert. But as the stragglers pressed in with suicidal fury, the attention of the attackers was pulled away, and the retreating fleet found itself flying clear of the battle as pursuit slackened.

Those that remained had no such hope, especially with their fatal tactics. Watching the battle with the others on the _Chimaera_ , Pelleaon was certain they knew it. The captain didn't know anything about this species' mental capacity; but he didn't see how any sentient creatures, even primitive aliens, could fail to realize they were doomed.

The Imperials observed the battle from their safer position with a little detachment, most only trying to conceive what might happen to the ship as a result of this. The Imperial navy did not strive to instill sympathy in it's crews, as too high-minded sentiments did not make good soldiers. Also, for most of the crew experienced in peace keeping operations throughout the outer rim, it was a strange feeling to be _rooting_ for native partisans.

Still, Pelleaon couldn't help but wince at the losses the defenders were taking, even as they fought on. One of the larger remaining ships finally gave-in under the torrent of fire it sustained, with multiple explosions wracking it's hull. Someone must still have been at the controls, because the remaining engines suddenly fired, and the dying ship altered course to collide with a large enemy cruiser, taking one of their tormentors with them. The resulting explosion was far larger than it should have been, an expanding shockwave that seemed to crackle with energy, powerful enough that it engulfed another Vahetey ship that had been pursuing the defender.

The captain turned his eyes away, moving to address the admiral. "Your plan, sir?"

"Yes," the admiral watched it all with his normal clinical gaze, non pulsed by the lethal consequences "The Vahetey demonstrate a strange battle practice about choosing their targets. On Karissa they were quick to split their forces to pursue two possible targets, with a discrepancy of distance between both. Viewing this battle they seem to interpret the closest threat to be the most pertinent What does seem consistent is that once they have engaged, it requires extreme pressure to tear their focus away.

Pelleaon grimaced. "The delaying force will likely be wiped out entirely."

"Yes," Thrawn nodded. "But the greater part of their fleet may escape."

There were times when the alien admirals battle philosophy differed greatly from that of the Imperial norm. And others, when it did not.

"Commander Bas, launch your first squadron of TIEs," Thrawn gave orders as he continued to monitor the battle. "They are to stay close to the ship and provide a screen against enemy fighters. Firing control, target nearest enemy ships as they, and probe for weak spots."

The admiral turned to Faro. "Commander, contact Kaarep and tell him we need a hyperspace route out of here. If he doesn't have one the _Fulkoom_ likely do. We will have very little time to make a clear jump before the Vahetey re converge and surround our posi-"

"Admiral," a frantic call came from the crewpit. "We have approaching enemy craft, disengaged from the main body."

Thrawn and Pellaeon both spotted the attackers immediately, three cruisers that must have risen from the planet's surface with a dead sprint at full thrusters. Pulling back from their charge they bent their course into a long curve that turned them to aim directly at the _Baaltaak_ and it's companion.

"All close range batteries, direct fire to new targets immediately," Thrawn announced to the room. "TIE Defenders are to re-engage and screen the _Baaltaak_!"

"You think they're targeting the transports?" Pellaeon supposed Kaarep must have been right about someone important trying to escape.

"And if they stay true to form, having acquired the target they will pursue it with no fear of their own destruction," Thrawn elaborated even as the guns up and down the _Chimaera_ opened up. Lances of green fire struck out at the Vahetey ships, and soon began to score hits as the cruisers kept their singleminded course.

The enemies behavior was so mindless that Pellaeon had an insane vision of them charging past the cruisers to attack the star destroyer itself. Intellectually, he knew they couldn't be any serious threat to their ship; but that was the power of the alien. They still knew almost nothing about this species, and their erratic behavior made them even more bizarre in the eyes of the crew. Under such circumstances, it was easy to image your enemy as being more invincible then they could be. In reality, they'ed never reach the star destroyer.

The lead cruiser was struck by several good shots in quick succession, and with a sudden burst of flame it split in two. The other ships kept coming, pouring on the thrusters as they blazed through the hail of fire. They nipped at the _Baaltaak_ and it's attachment, which had fired it's own engines and began to maneuver awkwardly as it raced toward the Chimaera. For combat craft, the Vahetey ships seemed relatively lightly armed.

More hits rocked the hulls on the pursuers, and Pellaeon was sure the two attackers were on the verge of destruction when they suddenly pulled up from their attack. With breaks straining against their momentum they clawed themselves to reduced speed as they turned their undersides toward the Murelani cruiser. They appeared to explode, discharging large pieces of their hulls; but the arrowhead objects moved too fast and kept on the straight course. The _Baaltaak_ desperately dove to try and avoid them; but speeding like a squadron of fighters the spray of pods managed to close the distance first, and the edge of their formation struck the lifeless form of the _Fulkoom_ ship. The rest of the attackers kept on, their course bringing them toward the star destroyer.

Pelleaon was familiar with these kind of hull-piercing pods, though in the civilized galaxy he didn't think they'd been used since the Clone Wars. "Security stations!" He shouted, a little frantic with disbelief. "Prepare to repel boarders!"

 

* * *

 

They had almost made it to the _Baaltaak_ , when the first boarding pod hit.

With a screech of steel it pierced the hull just a couple dozen paces in front of them, blocking the their path to safety. Acting on instinct, Ezra grabbed the Murelani crewmen in the lead and pulled her behind him. The ship shudder, as more pods struck it out of sight. With a hiss the pod's hatch unsealed, hesitantly jarring open to let a single figure out. Sliding to the floor, it's features hidden behind an armored body suit, it leveled it's blaster at them.

_I really miss my lightsaber!_ Before the Vahetey could fire Ezra reached out with the Force and threw it against the wall. Two more troops had already exited the pod, and the jedi dodged to the side as Saakic shot them both down. Ezra reached out and called the first attackers blaster into his hands, but more Vahetey were coming, and their group began to stumble back down the hall

In the open passageway there was little room to dodge, and no cover. Ezra sent a broken piece of roof flying into the growing group of Vahetey to throw off their aim; but even as they gunned down several more a Murelani fell from a shot to the stomach. Like a prick on his mind, Ezra sensed the warning of more attackers coming. "RUN, WE HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER WAY!" They probably couldn't understand his words, but they got the jist.

A side door wisked open right next to Ezra as they turned to flee, and another Vahetey just started to step through before he waved his hand and sent the door recoiling back and pinned it against the wall. Several shots forced him to dodge for a second, which was all the time the next two attackers needed to force the door open and get through it. Ezra managed to shoot the first before it could shoot him, and sent the other sprawling with a kick to the throat.

In the few seconds that had taken the others had reached a corner and fled around it. Saakic turned back for a second to shoot down another Vahetey coming at Ezra, gesturing furiously for him to follow with the other hand, which still held one of the force pikes the Murelani guards carried.

Without thinking, Ezra reached out and called the pike into his hand as he turned to run after them. The Vahetey coming from the side door were able to spill out as he backed away from it, but at least he only had to worry about being attacked from one direction now. He didn't know what setting these pikes had, but when he hit the first attacker in the chest it gave a high pitched wail and crumpled to the ground. Another was sent spinning by a blow to the head, and the next Ezra threw to the wall with a wave of his hand. It surprised him though, and lunged at him the second he looked away. The jedi brought the pike up to block the arm it struck with just in time, an instant before the Vahetey's nearly foot long wrist claw could lacerate his face. "OH S-," Ezra sent the alien hurtling down the hallway into the advancing ranks of it's comrades, then turned and ran.

By the time he caught up to his comrades the Vahetey had turned the corner and opened fire again. Ezra threw a pulse through the Force to send them sprawling, but one still managed to get a good shot. Instinctively, he raised the pike to deflect it, as he'd learned to do with his lightsaber on pure reflex. Only the pike wasn't designed for that, and rather than deflect the bolt it kicked back at Ezra as it took the shot. The young jedi dodged his own weapon awkwardly, then leapt and somersaulted through the air a second before a pair of blaster bolts hit him in the chest. By now the lead _Fulkoom_ , still carrying the box between them, darted into a side door with the others close behind. Ezra landed right in front of the door as Saakic paused long enough to take a few shots at their pursuers before following. Ezra deflected a few more bolts, bracing himself this time and keeping the pike tight in his hand. The staff sizzled and sparked, weakening with each hit.

Then something sent his senses off, and Ezra knew he didn't have time to fight. Reaching out with the Force, Ezra picked up the first Vahetey coming after them and pulled it forward, knocking it flat with a swing of the pike before darting into the hall.

He was through the narrow corridor in a pair of strides, arriving just in time. The room was a small escape-pod bay, and their party had almost made it before running right into another Vahetey boarding squad. The female Murelani who'd been hit earlier lay on the floor, her throat cut open by a single slash. One of the _Fulkoom_ who'd been dragging her along was also dead, it's side burnt with multiple blaster hits. Saakic had picked up his fallen comrades pike and was fighting for his life against to Vahetey seeking to claw him. One of the other _Fulkoom_ was just falling with a painful shriek, as the attacker he was grappling with managed to get it's blaster down and shoot. It fell to, as the ambassador hefted her heavy case with enough force to bring it down on the beings helmeted head with a crunch. It's partner came at her the next moment though, swinging it's blaster rifle like a club as it struck her in the shoulder.

Ezra took in all this in an instant, and attacked without breaking stride. With one wide swing he struck the Vahetey down before it could kill her, with sparks flying from his battered pike as it hit. He sent another into the wall with the Force, and stabbed a third in the chest. He hit one of Saakic's attackers in the side as it tried to turned on him, distracting the the other just long enough for the Murelani to get in his own killing blow. The attacking squad was beaten in a matter of seconds.

"Aawaay," Saakic cried, gesturing to the escape-pods as he rushed toward the fallen ambassador. A prick of danger set off the back of Ezra's neck, and he turned to see the Vahetey that had been knocked out by the case was struggling to rise again, and fumbling with something on it's belt. The jedi was on him in and instant, skewering the alien with his pike, but not before the fist sized device in it's palm began to buzz and beep in a countdown.

In the few seconds this had all taken, the pursuing Vahetey squad had caught up to them. The warriors burst through the side door guns blazing, ready to sink their claws into living flesh. It brought them up short when a beeping object came sailing down the hall.

The explosion wasn't quite as powerful as Ezra had expected, not up to the detonators of Imperial or Alliance tech, but it bought the time they needed. They'd dragged the rest of the survivors to the escape pod before the surviving boarding squad forced it's way through; but as the ambassador regained consciousness she tried to force her way back out the hatch. Saakic grabbed her but she struggled against him, speaking in a frantic high pitched cry as she pointed toward the kyber crystal, left lying on the floor where it had fallen from the broken crate.

The Vahetey were suddenly in the room, and Saakic slapped the pod controls as they opened fire. With cries of rage the aliens charged at their escaping prey, and one was knocked off his feet when the kyber crystal suddenly leapt up from the floor, shooting through the air and into the pod just as it's hatch slammed shut. In his franticness Ezra had called it up so quickly it collided with the opposite wall before he could stop it. Then the clamps around the pod released with a pneumatic hiss, and they shot away from the ship.

Ezra stumbled toward the front of the pod, where the ambassador had taken the controls and was steering them to follow the _Baaltaak_ which was flying free of the other cruiser. "Can we get a signal from them?"

"Haave," Saakic was standing on the other side of the pilot's chair, fiddling with a control board. "Go to thie Staar deastroyar."

Ezra leaned down to look through the viewport for the imperial ship's massive form, and his eyes widened as he saw the turn the battle had taken. "What the F-,"

 

* * *

 

_It's an exercise in futility,_ the admiral pondered. _And they attacked anyway. Why?_

Perhaps a dozen boardingpods had pierced the _Chimaera_ 's hull, disembarking more that a hundred assault troops to attack every Imperial in site. The panic was palpable on the bridge when the message of boarders came; Faro called for stormtroopers to reinforce the command deck, and Pellaeon began looking for a contingency in the event they were forced to abandon ship. Thrawn simply gave the appropriate engagement orders, and waited for it all to play out as he focused on the more important battle in space.

For all the shock and ferocity of their attack, the Vahetey had no chance of taking the ship, and their breach points were too far from any essential equipment to even damage it seriously. _If our theories are correct, they should be familiar with Imperial assets, like the layout of a star destroyer. In all likely hood they never planed to hit us, and were simply aiming for the alien cruisers. So why devote so many resources to a mission with such little chance of success? And why follow through with it when the cover-fire of the Chimaera made the odds even poorer?_

He could imagine the sound of battle that would be ringing through the halls below and forward from the command bridge. Every boarding party had been engaged by stormtrooper squads with naval trooper support. Their officers used superior numbers and the familiar terrain to maximum effect, cornering the enemy in open areas and converging from multiple sides to bring their superior fire-power to bare. Based on the reports, the aliens seemed to be making remarkably little effort to coordinate their spread-out squads.

In space, things were coming to a head. The formation of _Fulkoom_ ships had closed with the Chimaera, and they were preparing to flee. Kaarep had supplied coordinates to a hyperlane, either by himself or through the locals, which should provide an avenue of escape. The problem was that the Vahetey were only one step behind. Having neutralized the delaying force, the attackers were racing to reengage with their escaping prey. It was a disorganized attack, with an chaotic trickle of assailants who appeared to be acting on their own initiative gradually building into a torrent. In spite of the numeric disparity, the admiral suspected that with an Imperial force comparable to the defenders, he could have used this opportunity to destroy their fleet piecemeal.

Unfortunately, in addition to the fact that they'd only established the most rudimentary communication, the locals seemed to be holding up little better. Their formation was losing it's cohesion as it reformed along the escape vector, and that weakened it's collective firepower and shield overlap. Not a battle hardened force, clearly. Though the crewmen couldn't be entirely undisciplined either; with an escape route in sight, and the enemy baring down on them, an untrained fleet would likely have already seen ships simply bolt and run, leaving any who couldn't keep up behind.

Despite the lack of strategy, their maneuvers were not without skill in piloting. Whenever a ship changed course, the admiral noted quick, seamless responses from those around. _Like a flock of large, slow birds._ A likely psychological relic of their avian ancestry; and such a deeply ingrained group instinct might also explain their reluctance to abandon their comrades.

"A mess," Pelleaon shook his head as he surveyed the battle before them. "A damn mess." He turned to the admiral. "We've received reports from the trooper squads; all Vahetey patrols have been eliminated. Casualties were relatively light; none of the hostiles offered to surrender, but they are searching the wounded for any who might survive. Major Ayer is having his men continue systematic patrols in case any slipped away." He nodded out the view port. "And it looks like the _Baaltaak_ has detached from the _Fulkoom_ cruiser."

Thrawn turned his gaze toward the two ships. The Murelani were lingering, circling in a wide arc around their crippled companion. _Whose left on that ship_ , the admiral pondered. _and will they make it out in time?_ The small cruisers were now within the envelopment of _Fulkoom_ ships, and shielded from the attacking Vahetey. But they had mere minutes before the survivors would have to jump to hyperspace. _Kaarep will be vital to gaining supplies, and Bridger is still valuable._ But even as the admiral itched to give an order to assist, he knew it would be useless. A stormtrooper shuttle couldn't arrive in time. There were too many ships in the way to bring it in on a tractor beam.

"Instruct the gunners to maintain fire as targets appear," The admiral nodded to the Vahetey ships engaging on the other side of the _Fulkoom_. "The Chimaera will withdraw with the last wave of defending ships."

In space, the first wave of escaping ships reach the jump point, and shot off into the safety of hyperspace. Pelleaon shot a worried glance toward his commander. "Sir, with all due respect, I think that exposes us to an unnecessary margin of risk!"

"The _Baaltaak_ is on the move," Faro called from a crewpit. "An escape pod fired from the _Fulkoom_ transport, and both appear to be heading our way."

"Tractor control, follow that pod and bring it in as soon as you have a clear lock," Thrawn called across the bridge, even as he strode down into one of the crewpits. "The ship will launch into hyperspace as soon as they are aboard." The admiral stopped at the navigators console, leaning over to view the crewmen's screen. "Prepare jump calculations based on the coordinates I give you."

Remaining on the command deck, Pelleaon turned back toward the battle. Evidently, the admiral was abandoning his plan to wait for the last wave of defenders. That was probably for the best. Even as another wave jumped into hyperspace, the captain saw Vahetey ships making their way farther along the flank of the remaining defenders, cutting off their avenue of escape. In minutes, the Fulkoom ships would be surrounded, and pinned against the moon as they were slaughtered. Pelleaon felt a twing of sympathy for them, but the _Chimaera_ and it's crew came first.

With the enemy hammering them on all sides the defenders contracted into a smaller and smaller formation. The star destroyer corrected it's own position in response, and the bigger ship was actually starting to slide beneath the ring of defender, with a more open window into hyperspace. And swerving amid the larger ships the _Baaltaak_ followed, racing at the highest speed it could make while still covering the escape pod, it's small laserguns firing on the growing number of Vahetey fighters biting at their heels. The cruiser maneuvered constantly in an effort to stay between the pod and it's attackers. The light weaponry of the fighters initially bounced off it's shields, but began to punch through as the attacker raced closer. The lead fighters were almost on top of the cruiser when four TIE defenders came screaming over the hull of a _Fulkoom_ ship to pounce on them, scything through the attackers with a hail of lethal fire. Thrusters going at full blast the escape pod finally cleared the mass of ships, and the tractor beams of the _Chimaera_ locked onto it. As they were pulled in to safety, the star destroyer began to charged it's massive engines for hyperspace

As the last wave of defenders formed up along the hyperspace route, a handful of Vahetey ships closed the gap in front of them. With fanatical savagery they continued to press their attack, determined to stop their prey from escaping at any cost. With all their attention focused on their forward attack, they were completely surprised when the _Chimaera_ launched into hyperspace . . . only to reappear directly below them. The light and heavy lasers of the star destroyer opened up in a thunderous barrage, hitting into the unprepared flank of an enemy now pinned between two planes of incoming fire. It's appearance was so sudden that several Vahetey fighters collided with it.

On the bridge, Pelleaon ground his teeth in frustration. Of course Thrawn would have his reasons for saving the most defenders he could, and Pelleaon could sympathize, but his little tricks had a good chance of getting them all killed out here in the wilderness.

"An impressive feet of accuracy," the admiral himself strode over to gaze calmly at the carnage, nodding to the performance of the gunners. "The extra drills are bearing fruit. And I imagine our highly tenuous situation has kept the crew uncommonly motivated."

Pelleaon only nodded, responding to the admirals understatement with a sidelong look of annoyance as a large enemy ship blew apart in front of them. "The defender ships seem to be launching sir," he observed as the alien ships began to disappear into hyperspace.

"That is the end of it then," Thrawn nodded simply, as if they hadn't come close to destruction for the umpteenth time. "Helm, launch us into the second calculated jump."

 

* * *

 

The escape pod had been tractored onto the main flight deck of the _Chimaera_ , and thats where Kaarep met them after the ship entered hyperspace. The ambassador was the picture of relief, but Ezra could sense worry and despair radiating off him. He greeted the Nest Mother first; the two were apparently peers who know each other well, and they made a show of embracing in a way the jedi guessed was very ceremonial They were both still exchanging greetings, in their own languages, when Thrawn and his officers arrived.

"Ambassador," Thrawn greeted him with a nod. "I hope your efforts were successful."

"Thank the gods, they were," the Murelani nodded. "Maay Ii present Briei Adeiri, Secondary Nest Mother of thie _Fulkoom C_ ouncil." The avian raised her feathery arms with one forearm pressed flat on top of the other, and bowed to the imperials; speaking in her warbling language. "Shie wiishes to convey her deepest graatiitude for thie great serviice you haave done for her people."

The other imperials raised eyebrows at the exotic titles and birdsong speech, but Thrawn was his usual stoic self, and with one hand to his chest gave a half bow of his own. "Please confirm to her the deepest condolences of myself, and of the Empire, for what her people have just lost." The imperial admiral was giving one of his best performances, and sounded perfectly sincere.

"Aa griievous day," Kaarep shook his head sadly, ears drooping back. "For aall. Ii saaw thaat your shiip waas even further wounded, by Vahetey boarders. Ii'm sure iit waas aa biitter fiight."

"There were some losses yes," Thrawn nodded. "But our warriors proved more than a match for them. And I am hopeful that the knowledge to be gained from this whole encounter will outweigh the cost; at least, for my own people."

"I saw that you were attacked by boarders as well, but I admit I had little fear." The admiral nodded to Ezra. "You had commander Bridger with you after all, and I am sure he showed the typical courage of the jedi."

There wasn't even a hint of sarcasm, and Ezra actually didn't have the energy for a snide comeback. "We managed to make it out alive." He shrugged and shook his head. "These people are . . vicious. I've fought on a dozen planets, but never against anyone like them before."

"Ii fear thie tiime haas come for our worlds to prepaare for waar." Kaarep was silent for a moment, hands behind his back and ears perked thoughtfully, before he sighed. "When wie reach Kalbalka wie wiill spread the word. Ii wiill send aan emmiissaary diirectly to my Jaan-Maia aand aask her to caall on our aallies.

He was silent for another moment, then turned to Thrawn. "Whiile wie prepaare, aadmiiral, Ii wiill see whaat caan be done aabout restoring your shiip. Ii promiise thaat aafter whaat your people haave done, you maay haave aall thie resources of Kalbalka aat your diisposaal."

Thrawn kept his sabacc face, but Ezra saw something, a look in the eyes like a street vender who just hooked in his costumer."On behalf of my crew, let me express our thanks. The Empire will remember your assisstence, and I will be personally very grateful."

All this talk sounded perfectly sincere and innocent, but Ezra knew what was really happening. Kaarep needed Thrawn's help, now more than ever, and was willing to repair the _Chimaera_ because he expected to get a big return for his investment. Soon. Thrawn understood that perfectly, and if Ezra knew the grand admiral, then the Empire's help was going to end up costing the Murelani far more than they imagined.

"But if you will excuse me, my crew must see to our damage," Thrawn said. "And I believe we are all in need of some rest. I assume the Nest Mother will be more comfortable on your ship, Kaarep, though the _Chimaera_ would be happy to accommodate her."

After a few more pleasantries they split up, Thrawn and his people returning to the bridge while Kaarep took Adeiri with him. Ezra stood leaning his back against the escape pod for a few minutes, taking a moment to collect himself after his most recent near miss with death. He did his best to ignore the few Imperial crewmen working about the hangar, sending him frightened gazes or murderous glares when they thought he wouldn't notice. _Damn it, I just can't get away from this ship!_ It seemed he was going to have to spend the foreseeable future hanging around Imperials, watching out for a knife in the back. And now these blood drinking alien invaders, trying to kill him right to his face. _The Force sure seems to like piling it on._

With a sigh, Ezra stood up and started started toward the _Baaltaak_ , only to stop in his tracks. His senses were set off by the faintest hum in the air, and by now he recognized it immediately. Careful that he was unnoticed by the others, employing a Force technique that encouraged those around to _look-away_ , he crept back into the escape pod. The orange kyber crystal lay where it had been left on a seat, but it had suddenly gone quiet. Still there was that singing in the air, and Ezra stepped farther in to try and find what it wanted. He closed his eyes, trying to sharpen his focus, until he stepped on something hard. Lifting his foot, Ezra saw what had been calling him. A shard of kyber crystal, about the size of his small finger, lay on the floor. It must have broken off from the larger one when it hit the wall. And even though the ethereal music had know words he could understand, it was clear what it was trying to tell him.

With a quick glance around, Ezra called the small crystal off the floor and into his hand, immediately palming it away where it wouldn't be noticed.

  


**I know I say this every time, but hopefully the next chapter won't take so long. Also, for those of you interested, the Vahetey are supposed to be an equivalent of the Yevethan. The Vong aren't going to show up . . . anytime soon.**

 


End file.
